


fringe

by Rorschach (Grindelwald)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alien Invasion, Aliens, Also I've aged a lot of people differently for plot purposes, Also some Captain America inspo, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, And violence, Apparently this matters so, Bottom Louis, F/M, Harry is 17 for like a week tops, I am basically a major nerd this is the lovebaby of many things, I'll add more tags as the story progresses, Johnny is the Bucky to Harry's Steve, Louis's age is never explicitly mentioned in this, M/M, No underage SEX occurs, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Power Bottom Louis, SUCH A MINOR TAG COMPARED TO ALL THE SHIT IN THIS, Slurs, Soldier Liam, Soldier Niall, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, The Underage tag is there for warning, There are some implications towards it but no graphic descriptions/glorifications, They're at war so any one character can kill someone, Underage Drinking, War, ableist slurs, and major character death, and minor character death, but he and Harry have the same age difference as in rl, gendered slurs, lOUIS in hot outfits, like violence, pilot niall, sci fi, sometimes, supernatural louis, this is heavily inspired by Gundam Seed, zayn being the boss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grindelwald/pseuds/Rorschach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At 17, all Harry Styles cares about is the fact he's about to turn 18 and move away from the small, adorable but sexually stifling town of Holmes Chapel. Meet a nice boy, and get away from his family and, most importantly, Nick. He feels like the world is going to end when his mother makes him go to Nick's birthday party.</p><p>The funny thing is, it actually does.</p><p>Waking up in a war-torn planet that's falling apart, Harry is forced into a battle he doesn't understand, unprepared and coping with the trauma of losing his entire world in one night. As if that weren't bad enough, they are outnumbered, and outmatched by the enemy.</p><p>It doesn't help that the enemy doesn't understand personal space either.</p><p>or, the one where harry wakes up after a party with a hangover and the realisation he slept through the end of the world, nobody believes in time travel even when it's the only option, zayn is almost the boss and still has to watch the woman he loves with someone he despises, niall's a pilot, liam has a secret, and louis is potentially the most dangerous thing in the world, save for the aliens ripping the planet apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Year?” He pressed, a weird look on his face as he observed Harry.
> 
>  
> 
> “2012.” This caused the other boy to laugh before fixing him with a look.
> 
>  
> 
> “See, I know you’re not lying to me, but I also know you probably hit your head. That’s about 200 years too early to be true.”
> 
>  
> 
> “What?” 
> 
>  
> 
> “It’s 2212, buddy.”

**I. MOURNING**  

 

“This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper.”   
―  **T.S. Eliot**.

 

 

* * *

 

The door bell chimed cheerfully as the door to the bakery opened, letting a cool rush of wind in. The boy stood behind the counter looked up, delicate curls falling into his eyes as a smile stretched the corners of his wide, red mouth. “Johnny!” He greeted jovially, green eyes sparkling.

 

“Hey, Harry.” The dark-haired boy smiled warily, making Harry’s own smile falter slightly, and he inclined his head towards the door. “Can we talk?”

 

“Yeah, sure.” His thick eyebrows knitted together with worry, he threw a look over his shoulder at the backroom. “Barbs! I’m taking my break, I’ll be back in 15,” The brunet said, taking off his apron as he spoke, cupcake crumbs rolling off the fabric and onto the floor. Johnny gave him a nod, stepping outside first while Harry made his way around the counter. 

 

“Sure, hon! Take your time!” The bakery was fairly small, frequented mainly by regulars and saw little to no activity at this hour, but the young boy still felt bad leaving Barbara to hold the fort all by herself. Still, it was very rare of Johnny to look anything less than energetic and happy, and the slump of his broad shoulders made Harry’s stomach knot with anxiety. 

 

Although he knew it would be fairly cold outside, Harry didn’t even bother grabbing his coat, simply locating his beanie and pulling it on before stepping out. The icy bite of the wind slapped his cheeks, a shiver instantly running throughout his lean body, and he pulled his sleeves over his hands as though it’d help somehow. Johnny was leaning against one of the street lamps, dark fingers curled around a cigarette as he watched the cars drive past. “Those are really bad for you.” His long-time friend gave him a withering look; it wasn’t the first time Harry tried that useless lecture.

 

“You try being a black man in England and then judge me for my stress-relief methods, skinny ass cunt.” There was no venom in his words and a smile played on Harry’s lips as he lifted his arms in mock surrender. “Put your hands down or I’ll _beat_ your ass.” 

 

This drew out a full-body cackle, dropping his hands to his side. “Alright, alright. Permission to approach the bench?” He said, stepping closer to Johnny. “What’s up?”

 

“Your mum sent me.” The smile washed off Harry’s face. He already knew what this was about before Johnny even had to continue. “She wants you to go to Nick’s birthday party tonight, and she said to make sure you realise you don’t have a choice.”

 

A sigh tore from the shorter boy, scrunching his nose up at Johnny. “I think I should pick up smoking.”

 

“Don’t be dramatic.” He dropped the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out. “It’s just a party.”

 

Harry shifted his feet, fingers fiddling with a loose piece of string on his sweater. “I just don’t see why I have to go.” 

 

Johnny ignored him, fixing a look at a few strung out university students on the other side of the road drunkenly singing and whistling at women. “I _hate_ white kids.” He said vaguely, pulling a disgusted face. “Won’t ever catch me singing like a fucking knobhead just because I had like, _one_ beer.” 

 

“Well, _why_ do I have to go?” Harry pressed, his voice nothing more than a whine. 

 

This made Johnny give in, and he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Because he’s your brother?”

 

“ _Step_ -brother,” Harry corrected hotly, cheeks pink. “We’re not even really related. I don’t see why I have to go and make nice with all his friends when all they do is touch my hair and make fun of me. Is mum also forcing _Gemma_ to go? I’m 18 in less than a month, you know, she should _really_ start treating me as an adult.” 

 

“Hey, don’t be petty. Gemma’s already going.” Johnny pointed out, “She doesn’t need to force her, but if she did, she _would_. You know Nick’s her favourite. Your mum loves him more than she loves _you_.”

 

He had to admit that stung a bit, as true as it was. He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I _hate_ him.” The flush in his skin grew a darker shade of red; Johnny, ever the observant pain in his arse, noticed. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, _sure_ you do.” Johnny smirked, and Harry playfully pushed his shoulder. 

 

* * *

 

It was half past seven when they pulled up to the driveway. His mother had switched on the floodlights in their front-garden, illuminating the large house against the twilit sky. There were people on the steps leading to the wide-open front door, leaning into one another and smoking, and even from his position in the passenger seat of the car he could just _tell_ the house was packed wall-to-wall with hundreds of people. Probably. Balloons bobbed down the steps and onto the grass. Johnny turned off the engine, causing the car to go still and quiet. “Of course the entirety of Cheshire shows up for _his_ party,” Harry scowled, and Johnny laughed in the driver’s seat.

 

“Hate to say it, but the party actually looks _sick_ ,” Johnny said before taking off his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. Harry made sure to release a disdainful groan before following him out. 

 

“You probably don’t hate to say it at all. Admit that my pain and suffering gets you off.” He muttered bitterly as they made their way into the house, restraining himself from gagging at the loud EDM music blasting out of the building. 

 

Johnny shushed him. “Hey, I never denied it.” As soon as they were inside, Harry looked around for his mother, sister, or, with desperation, his stepfather. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his stepfather, but he couldn’t face the man without feeling hot shame sneak up on him. However, none of the faces he saw were familiar; he supposed they were all from the radio station Nick interned at.The older man had his heart set on becoming a radio DJ, and though Harry was not in the habit of discouraging people’s dreams, even if he did dislike them to his core, nothing was more annoying than the idea of hearing his stepbrother’s voice every time he turned the radio on. 

 

“I’m going to go grab a beer, you want one?” Johnny asked, but didn’t really wait for his answer before moving through the crowds. If there was one thing Harry admired most about Johnny, it was his ease around strangers. The boy had enough charisma to spare, and then some, and most people who met him fell in love with his personality straight away. As for Harry, if people even hung around him long enough to let him finish a sentence, they tended to avoid talking to him unless they absolutely had to. Even Johnny was occasionally irritated by his slow drawl and they’d been friends since they were in diapers. Despite being in his own home, the brown-haired boy felt severely out of place at the party, and mumbled faint apologies as he brushed past people to get to the kitchen. 

 

A shrill laugh sounded in his ears as he froze in the doorway. His mother had a firm rule about the kitchen during parties, claiming it was a no-go zone and that if _anyone_ goes in they should definitely not bring alcoholic drinks with them. While his mother was effortlessly lovely, she could be rather loud when she was angry, and so the entire house and most people who visited accepted that rule without contest. Whenever he was forced to attend a party at his house, he chose to hang around the kitchen until it was over. But there in the corner, leaning against a counter was a leggy blond, whose fake tan made Harry feel like he could stain his mother’s white cupboards just by touching them, and whispering into his ear, hovering over him, was his favourite person ever, Nick. 

 

Rage settled in his throat in the form of a lump. It was _one_ thing for Nick to parade his flavour of the week around, and quite another for him to do it in _Harry’s_ safe space. 

 

“Here,” Johnny said lowly, offering him a beer and catching his attention, but he still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the _blond_ , and _Nick_ and _lips_ against someone’s neck. “Are you trying to glare him to death?”

 

His cheeks were red as he averted his gaze and he accepted the bottle, taking a long swig. “I don’t care,” He said flatly. “Where the fuck is mum anyway?”

 

Johnny pointed towards the garden. “You don’t want to go out there though, your step-dad’s _dancing_ and spilling alcohol all over himself. He got wine all over your mum’s dress and she’s pissed. Also—She always calls me Johnny boy and I feel like I might kill her if she does, sorry.” 

 

“No shit,” Harry commented, his eyebrows raised. “You _always_ say that you will, but you’re all talk, _Johnny boy_.” The blond laughed again behind them, cooing over something Nick said. “I’m going to kill _him_.”

 

“Sure you are. Come on.” His friend said with a roll of his eyes, pulling him away from the kitchen door. 

 

* * *

 

 

Harry’s head lolled back against the deck-chair limply, his long legs sprawled out in front of him and his toes pointing inward as he looked at the sky. From where he was, the loud roar of the party was faint. Johnny had stuck by his side, but after he’d gained enough liquid courage, he decided to go hit on Gemma to no avail. Nothing out of the ordinary anyway. Empty bottles of beer they’d consumed littered the area around the desk-chairs. He sighed forlornly and leaned over to grab the nearest bottle of beer, frowning at how it was half-empty. Metaphors for his life came in strange packages, he thought before lifting the mouth of the bottle to his lips.

 

“What’s this? Drinking underage? Naughty.” Cold dread washed over his body, and he didn’t even need to turn around to know that nasal voice was Nick’s. 

 

He took a swig. “Go away.”

 

“ _Nope_ ,” Nick said, stressing the _p_ before approaching Harry’s limp body and leaning over him, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair. “I so love our little talks. Especially when you’re so _polite_ and happy to see me.” The smirk on his face only deepened when the younger boy scowled at him, and he reached over to card his fingers through Harry’s curls. 

 

Sitting up with a scowl, he battled Nick’s hand away. “ _Don’t_ touch me.” _Go touch that other boy._

 

The smirk on the taller boy’s face didn’t falter, but he did move back, allowing Harry to stand up and move away from him. “I didn’t think you were coming, or I would have come and found you earlier.”

 

“Mum didn’t really leave me a choice.” His voice was syrupy and he fixed Nick with an exaggerated smile, lips pursed, before trying to side-step him and get back to the party, find Johnny, get out of here. However, Nick immediately stepped in front of him, and again when Harry side-stepped again. “Stop being so childish! Get out of my way.”

 

Amusement danced darkly in Nick’s eyes. “But I only just found you.”

 

“Yep, and now I’m leaving. _Move_.” When he didn’t budge, Harry groaned and turned away, deciding to walk the long way around the pool. However, before he could get very far, he felt long fingers close around his wrist, and his body pulled back. He found himself face to face with his stepbrother once more, their chests all but pressed together. Nick moved his hands to his hips, snaking his arms around him.

 

Harry’s heart hammered in his chest, the familiarity of the situation making his body tremble slightly, and he could feel Nick’s next words whispered against his cheek. “Can’t you at least not pretend to dislike me today? It’s my birthday.”

 

“Trust me, nobody here is pretending,” Harry spat out, face red and tried to pull himself out of Nick’s arms as the older male only held on tighter. “Nick, _stop_ —” He was cut off, his muffled words turning into a frustrated moan as Nick crushed their mouths together, eyes slipping shut for a split second. His hands sought out the familiar curve of the boy’s body, fingers digging into his sides. As much as it caused him shame to admit, being young, gay and painfully single was only half the reason he always ended up submitting to Nick’s affections. The other half of the reason was that it felt _good_ to be wanted, even if it was by the wrong person. At least it was _someone._ It didn’t help that sometimes Nick’s mouth made him feel like the ground at his feet was shaking.

 

It was only when his knees gave in abruptly when he realised the ground actually _was_ shaking, and water splashed out from the pool by their feet. He pulled away with a gasp as Nick pulled him up. “What was _that_?!” His voice was a few notches too low for a shriek, but was still doused with terror. Nick, for his part, managed to look completely unaffected. 

 

“It’s probably just a small earthquake. Barely felt it,” He soothed, lips catching Harry’s in another searing kiss before moving to layer kisses against the flushed expanse of his neck, but they were interrupted by yet another tremor. This time it was strong enough to send a few bottles rolling into the pool, the deck chairs screeching against the stone tiles as they shook with movement. 

 

This time, Harry pulled away completely, stepping back, eyes wide with concern. “What the fuck?!” The older boy moved closer and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing a chaste, sweet kiss on top of his head before stealing another few kisses. 

 

“It’s _fine,_ Harry, it’s probably nothing,” He said before pressing their mouths together more firmly. The faint music that had been coming from their house had stopped, and he could hear worried screams. “Come on, babe, relax,” He mumbled over his lips.

 

“ _Nick?!_ ” What finally seemed to scare Nick enough to move away was not the fact the ground was still shaking threateningly, but his mother’s shocked voice. They pulled away from each other and Harry shot his mother a terrified look, face pale as a sheet. Anne stood by the pool, a large red stain on the skirt of her white dress and her fingers wrapped loosely around a glass of champagne. Trust his mother to always manage to have a drink in her hand. As if that weren’t bad enough, people were starting to crowd outside. He could see Johnny in the front, his arms wrapped protectively around Gemma, whose face was streaked with tears and confusion.

 

_No, no, NO._ Nobody was supposed to find out, and especially not like this. Most people didn’t even know Harry was _gay_ and now his grand coming out was tainted by the fact he was caught kissing his _stepbrother_. Tears stung his eyes and he immediately moved towards his mum.

 

“Mum, I can—I can explain, it’s not—”

 

“You don’t have to explain anything,” His mother interrupted him, flatly, coldly, and with an authority that made him feel like the worst was about to happen. The ground was still shaking. “ _You_ , on the other hand,” She said shakily, raising her hand to point at Nick.

 

“ _Mum_ ,” He heard Nick say. He felt sick. 

 

“Fuck you,” Anne hissed. Then, louder, “ _Fuck you._ I let you into my home. I treated you like my own and you—With _my_ baby. He’s not even 18, you sick, horrible—!”

 

“He’s over sixteen—” 

 

“And you’re well into your twenties and my _son_. _My_ son. How _dare_ you? How dare you molest _my_ child and then claim that it’s okay because he’s over sixteen.” 

 

“Molest?!” Nick echoed indignantly, furious. “He came onto me!” 

 

Harry could barely recognise his own voice. “What?” None of this was supposed to happen. He felt like his world was ending. All these people, all these nameless people knew, and they all thought he was disgusting, he was sure they did. 

 

He saw Gemma nervously approach their mother, Johnny by her side. “Mum, calm down, what happened?” 

 

Anne scoffed, taking a mouthful of her drink. “Well, honey, Nick, my “son” was _kissing_ your brother. Kissing him!”

 

A collective gasp tore through the atmosphere, and Harry felt so embarrassed he wished the ground would swallow him hole. The sheer humiliation felt like it was going to kill him, but then the ground lurched violently and he instantly wanted to take his wish back. Screams tore out, his mother and sister toppling into one another as his best friend steadied them both. “Mum! Gemma!” He shouted, terrified. It felt like the ground was breaking in half, and people were already breaking into a run, but where could they run to when the earth beneath their feet was falling apart?! “Mum?!” He was going to die, he was going to die with his mother hating him.

 

“Harry! Baby!” Anne screamed, trying to reach him, her glass lolling, forgotten, on the floor. 

 

“Mum!!!” He screamed one last time. The last thing he saw were Johnny’s wide, brown eyes before he felt the ground swallow him up. 

 

* * *

 

 

When he came to, his head was throbbing painfully, a sharp stinging at the back of his head like he’d been hit with a blunt object. A sharp pang of pain shook through his skull as he tried to sit up, eyes squeezed shut as he brought a hand up to rub his nasion. His dry, cracked lips parted painfully, as though they’d been glued shut and he was peeling them apart. When he blinked his eyes open, they stung as though they’d been lit afire, sensitive to the stark, pale sunlight. What _happened_? His head was spinning as he groggily pushed himself up to his feet, his body sore and aching all over. There was a blurriness and lack of focus to his vision, and he only dimly registered the fact he had no idea where he was. The ground was dried out, there was no grass, no trees, nothing characteristic of Holmes Chapel. There weren’t any roads or houses, and there weren’t any people. Where did everyone go? With a sickening lurch, he looked down at his body, his clothes were soaked in blood and his feet were bare, which was strange because he was wearing boots before—

 

It all came back to him at once, in a devastating rush, memories filtering past like a real of tape. Nick’s party, talking to Johnny just _hours_ ago for the very last time, his mother finding out about Nick, his sister falling over, the _earthquake._ The ground shaking, and breaking and his mother’s screaming when she couldn’t reach him in time.

 

Oh god, his _mother_. Horror settled into his bones as he spun around, shouting desperately, “Mum?! Mum!” Were they all dead? Was everyone _dead_? That thought rushed through him, making him keel over, dry-heaving into the dry soil, but he didn’t throw up. His stomach was achingly empty and his body simply coughed out instead, spraying blood into the air as horrified tears started sliding down his cheeks. 

 

Had they all died? That just wasn’t—That just wasn’t possible. It wasn’t possible for everything to be _gone_. There had to be some mistake. His mother was probably waiting for him, worried about him, Gemma was probably crying. What if they were hurt? With that thought, he finally pushed himself up onto his feet, staring ahead at the barren wasteland that seemed to go on forever, and ever. Nothing but deserted land for miles and miles, nothing that indicated a direction that would lead him to human life. He had no choice, his body still shaking with sobs as he dragged his weak limbs forward, his steps unstable. It didn’t matter how long it took he needed to find someone, _anyone_.

* * *

 

 

“Oh my god,” The man groaned, looking down at his foot. “Now is _not_ the time for you to be fucking with me. I’ll—Fuck off, or I’ll—” He cut himself off, impatiently pointing his gun at the offender. “I won’t hesitate to use this if you don’t _fuck off_.” His voice was nothing more than a hiss, but it had a serious edge to it. “I’m Captain Liam Payne, got that? _Captain_. I’ve killed before and I will not hesitate to kill again.”

 

The spider on his foot didn’t back away, continuing to pull itself up the soldier’s leg despite his threats. He groaned with frustration, turning his gun away and falling back against the wall behind him, which was infested with maggots that immediately sprinkled his shoulders, accompanied by other crawlers from more spiders to centipedes that curled around his body. There was no use, however, he couldn’t attract too much attention. It was either allow himself get terrorised by an armada of insects or get swallowed hole by the rabid outside. He could hear the ground shake with approaching footsteps.

 

“ _Status?_ ” A smooth voice asked into his ear piece, causing him to grit his teeth with irritation. Why _anyone_ ever thought it was a good idea to call in for a chat while someone was out in the field was beyond him. Choosing to ignore the request for now, seeing as it was getting closer and regardless of whether or not it was rabid, its senses would definitely pick up on him speaking when it was this close. He held the ground, wanting to maintain the small advantage surprise gave him. 

 

An ice cold jolt seized his body as he heard a very loud, very piercing, very _human_ scream. _There weren’t meant to be any civilians here_. Immediately jumping out from his hiding place, Liam held up his gun at the target, his thick eyebrows furrowing as he took in the sight of it towering over a skinny boy that looked to be in his teens, and was definitely a civilian. Without thinking twice about it, he took his shot, the bullet piercing through its shoulder. 

 

With a snarl, it turned away from the boy and toward him, causing the boy to scramble back in horror. Spit and dirt flew out the sides of its wide mouth as it screamed and began to slink closer, the gun seemingly having done nothing to deter it.

 

“Fuck,” Liam hissed, throwing the gun away and leaning down to pull out a long, jagged blade he kept attached to his upper thigh. Quickly pirouetting out of the way as it lunged for him, he stumbled slightly but regained his footing. The target had clearly not eaten since raiding this territory, it was four feet taller than him and still not as large as it should be for an adolescent. Regardless, it was still stronger, faster, _smarter_ than him. This one almost looked humanoid, with flaky, tanned skin and hollow eyes and matted hair all over its body, but he knew that was because it was malnourished, looking at him hungrily as drool slid down its fangs. 

 

_Fucking civilians._

 

It didn’t take long to rest, quickly regaining itsstamina and lunging forward once more, making a swipe for Liam’s face, but he moved back, missing its claws by an _inch_ before ducking underneath its large body, an enraged, desperate cry tearing from his throat as he pushed his blade straight into its pale chest. If it had a heart, it would have driven straight through it. Instead, its chest sagged open, black blood spraying all over him as its body fell onto his, limp, rank and pouring out blood as its guts pooled out. 

 

“ _Nasty_ ,” He groaned, pushing it off himself and climbing to his feet, trying to shake some of the wet, putrid blood off his hands before he remembered. _The boy._

 

Whipping his head over to look for him, he found him exactly where he was before, almost frozen in position, pale and a little bruised up, but generally unharmed. Walking over, he wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, smearing away some of the blood. “Think it’s going to rain?” He asked, voice clipped, causing the boy’s startled, green eyes to glance to him, glance back to the corpse a few feet away, and back again before his eyes fluttered shut and he fainted back against the ground.

 

Liam scoffed. “Typical.” Moving closer, he wrapped his arms around the boy’s knees and pulled up, carrying him over his shoulder. “No need to be like that. Rain in this climate is a good thing, kid,” he chastised, knowing the boy couldn’t hear him. 

 

“ _Status_?” The voice came again and irritation flooded his body. Honestly, if he _could_ he’d throw the fucking earpiece. “ _Payne_?”

 

Reaching up with his free hand, he pushed a small button at the top of the device. “I’m _alive_ , Waliyha. Stop freaking out,” He hissed. 

 

Not missing a beat, she shot back, “I am _not_ “freaking out”. It’s called _protocol._ I’ll send Niall to pick you up if you’re done. Even if you’re not done, it’s getting late and they’ll be there in droves. You can go back again.”

 

Rolling his eyes, he whispered to the boy’s limp body, “Can you believe what I have to put up with?” Then, louder, “Sure, send him over. I’m all done.” 

 

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, buddy,” He chirped to the unconscious boy. “You get to come home with me.”

 

* * *

 

If at all possible, Harry felt even worse the second time he woke up. His throat was burning and his eyes were wet when he opened them, like he’d been crying. Then, he remembered, he had been. _Everyone might be dead_ , he thought, and sat up abruptly, his head throbbing immediately. His eyebrows furrowed when he realised he was on a hospital bed, in different clothes now, and there was an IV hooked to his wrist. It looked nothing like the wasteland he’d woken up in, and there was no sign of that creature that had attacked him either. Maybe it had all been a dream. Hope blossomed in his chest and he looked around for a button to call the nurse in, but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

 

“You’re finally awake.” Harry didn’t even care that he didn’t recognise the voice, it was a _human_ voice, and his face was creased with desperate elation as he turned to look at the speaker. His mouth twitched into a frown when he saw who it was. It was that _man_ from the dream, the one who attacked the giant creature, _slaughtered_ it. Was he still dreaming? “I’m Liam, by the way. I kind of saved your life.”

 

“Where…” He croaked, unable to get the words out, and the boy frowned sympathetically, walking over to hand him a glass of water. It seemed a little dubious, but his throat ached with dehydration, so he gratefully accepted it, immediately gulping the whole thing down. 

 

Liam cocked his head to the side. “Better?” He said kindly, almost smiling when the curly-haired boy nodded so gratefully. He looked so _young_. “Good. Now, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re going to need to administrate a little truth serum. Standard procedure.” 

 

Harry rolled his eyes in disbelief. As if truth serum was real, but Liam gestured and the door opened, a nurse coming in pushing a small cart. Nerves began to settle into his weary body as she held up a syringe between gloved fingers; it was full of a translucent, white liquid. “This might sting,” She warned before holding Harry’s shaking wrist firmly and injecting it into his cephalic vein. True to her word, a sharp sting ached through the affected area, but was gone almost as quickly as it had happened. 

 

His head spun dizzily, and he felt slightly lethargic, barely registering Liam nodding his thanks to the nurse before pulling himself a chair. His tongue felt fat and heavy in his mouth and he struggled to focus his blurred vision on him. He didn’t look much older than himself, possibly in his early 20s?

 

“Sorry about that,” He said, noticing Harry’s discomfort. “I’m Captain Liam Payne, and you’re at CONTROL headquarters. In the infirmary, to be exact. I found you when I was on an excursion in Area 42, which is _off limits_ to civilians. I’d like you to start by telling me who you are and what the _fuck_ you were doing there.” As he spoke, he rubbed the toe of his scuffed boots, looking almost _bored_ by Harry. As though this happened every day, and Harry felt like he was going insane. “Name?”

 

“H—Harry, I think. I’m. Where’s my family?” He croaked.

 

Liam frowned sympathetically. “Look, kid, I have to get through all these questions first and then go through the _rest_ of the steps I have to take to make sure you’re not a threat, and then we can take you back to whichever district you and your family are assigned to.”

 

Threat? Harry was a threat? This man had taken down a giant, hulking _monster_ and he was sitting there assessing if _Harry_ was a threat. This had to be a joke. He was going on about districts and other strange things as well. Must be foreign, Harry thought glumly, missing his family. 

 

When he swallowed, his throat hurt slightly, and he couldn’t help but feel irritated at the lack of explanations and clarity and the slowness the drug put him through.“District? No, I’m from…You know Cheshire? England? I’m from there, my family’s there. There was an earthquake.” 

 

A perplexed look crossed over the other man’s face, but he still looked unamused. “You must have hit your head. They don’t even _get_ earthquakes in Area 42,” He said plainly, leaning back in his chair. “What’s a Cheshire?” He asked, face scrunched up. “Or an England, for that matter.” 

 

Harry frowned. “You don’t know what England is? The UK?”

 

A look of realisation crossed Liam’s face, and he sat up in his chair. “ _Oh_ , you mean Section F, right?”

 

“What?” Harry said, blinking slowly.

 

“Yeah, you weren’t in England, buddy, and unless you’re a hundred years old, you’re not from there either. That place has been infested for over eighty years.”

 

“Infested?” He was really getting irritated now. “With what? There was an earthquake just recently! Where’s my mother? My sister? Nick?!” His voice was loud, furious. “What are these fucking districts and _sections_ and _areas_ , I _want_ to go home. If this is a fucking joke to you, stop, because it’s not funny!” Finishing his rant with a snarl, his eyes stung with tears, face going pink.

 

“Whoa, _calm_ ,” Liam admonished. “You know that thing you saw earlier today? With the drool and the fangs and the look on its face like it's about to rip you apart? Infested with thousands of those motherfuckers, has been forever. If that’s home to you, you’re clearly confused. Your family and this Nick guy are probably _fine_ , they’re probably just in their district. You know, where _you_ should have been.” Squinting his eyes, he peered closer at the upset boy. “What day was this ‘earthquake’?”

 

“…January. 14th.” Harry said slowly. It had been Nick’s birthday. Everyone found out, everyone knew, and then it all just _ended_. They could all be _dead_.

 

“Year?” Liam pressed, a weird look on his face.

 

“2012.” This caused the other boy to laugh before fixing him with a look.

 

“See, I know you’re not lying to me, but I also know you probably hit your head. That’s about 200 years too early to be true.”

 

“What?” 

 

“It’s 2212, buddy.” Noticing the utter look of terror on Harry’s pale face, he took some pity on the boy. “Let’s work backwards, what _do_ you remember?”

 

Tears were still rolling down his cheeks, and he struggled to speak. “It—It was Nick’s birthday. He’s my,” His throat felt so tight. “He’s my stepbrother, and I didn’t want to go…But I did, Johnny made me, my—Johnny’s my _best_ friend, he’s the only person who knows _everything_ about me…and my, and my _mum_ saw me and Nick and she was so, so, so furious, I think she hates me,” He rambled, not noticing Liam rubbing his growling stomach as he patiently waited for the boy to finish so he could go to lunch. Harry thought of how angry his mother was, about how all he wanted to do was find her, beg for her forgiveness. All he wanted to do was find Johnny and his sister, and _hell_ , he even wanted to know if Nick was okay. Everything that seemed to matter so much to him before no longer did. 

 

“…Then the earth just started shaking, it was _horrible_ , it felt like the earth was going to split in two.” 

 

“But there hasn’t been any earthquakes in so _long_ ,” Liam cut him off, but Harry ignored him, continuing to ramble.

 

“I guess I like, passed out, when I woke up everything was gone. There were so many people at…at the party and they were all gone,” He sniffled miserably. “What if they’re all dead? Why do I have to be alive if they are all dead? My…My mum might be dead.” 

 

Liam’s face was impassive. “That’s impossible.”

 

Hope surged through Harry. “Do you…Do you think they’re still…”

 

“There is _no way_ you’re from 2012. Ignoring the fact that’d make you like 216 years old…” Liam began dismissively, waving him off dismissively when Harry cut in to correct him, say he was nearly 18. “There’s no way you’re from that _date_.”

 

“Why? Why is that date relevant?” He asked, feeling sick. 

 

“Are you serious?” Liam scoffed before shaking his head. “Of course you are. Okay, I’ll tell you. 14th of January, 2012, we were attacked.”

 

“Like…by another country?” Harry asked, confused. 

 

“No, like, by aliens,” Liam mocked, standing up and pacing around the room, making Harry feel even dizzier. 

 

“Aliens invaded the UK?” Harry was doubtful, even though there were no traces of laughter in the other boy’s expression. This could all still be a very elaborate, very _sick_ joke. Or a dream. At this point Harry would pick either option gladly. 

 

Liam shook his head. “The whole world,” He corrected, rubbing his fingers through his hair. Harry felt sick. Aliens? The whole _world_ was invaded? That was impossible. They had nuclear weapons. They were _prepared._ Weren’t they? “Britain doesn’t exist anymore. Like I said, Section F is off-limits.”

 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry tried to hold it all in. “Where you were? Area 42?” Liam continued listlessly. “That was uh, France? Is Lisbon in France?”

 

“Portugal,” Harry corrected hollowly. 

 

Liam shrugged. “It’s all the same thing now. We’re in what used to be Russia. There are only a few _inhabitable_ places left on the planet. Section A, that’s us here. Section B is in like, the other continent attached to this one, the big one. Asia? Asia. I’m so bad with Geography, you have _no_ idea. Most of Asia is inhabitable, for now, except the South East and parts of West Asia. We had to fight tooth and nail for it, but it was worth it. That’s where all the resources were. Section C is East Africa, but they’re _surrounded_ by enemy territory, so CONTROL has another base there. New Zealand is alright, that’s section D. But that’s it,” He shrugged his shoulders. “Everywhere else has been infested.”

 

“By aliens,” he repeated dumbly, tone flat and cold and hollow, just like how he felt all over.

 

“Yeah,” Liam nodded. “At least that’s what we think they are. We haven’t had many encounters with them that don’t end in them massacring all of us, so we haven’t really had the _chance_ to have a chat about what they are. We barely know anything about them, and even if we did, we’d _still_ be unmatched _.”_

 

His blood felt cold, ice cold, and his skin puffy. Everything felt horrible. “Everyone’s dead?” He said, his lower lip wobbling pathetically. 

 

Liam sighed, looking sympathetic. “Look kid, I’m sorry for whatever happened to you, but I honestly have _no_ fucking clue why you think you’re from 2012.”

 

“Because I _am_ ,” He insisted miserably. “What’s CONTROL?” 

 

“It’s like an army, I guess. We don’t really have separate countries anymore. So, it’s like a united army. We protect civilians. Or, at least, we try to,” Liam rubbed a hand over his face. “Can’t save everyone though, kid, especially not from _them._ ”

 

When Harry didn’t speak for a long moment, Liam took it as his chance to leave, rubbing the back of his neck before speaking. “Look, you should get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow and maybe we can try to find that family of yours. I’m sure they’re fine and you’re just…confused. You know?”

 

How could anyone be so confused that they conjured up an entire life, an entirely different life?

 

All he could do was nod, numb and tired. Liam offered him a worn-out smile before leaving and the young boy slowly, quietly fell back onto the bed, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to will away the images of his mother screaming and trying to reach him.

 

He cried all night long. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so this is my new project. I'm writing it as I go along, but I'm very deeply inspired so hopefully all will go well. Please leave feedback.
> 
> By the way, please send me your thoughts on tumblr if you want, it's http://mattehealy.tumblr.com


	2. After Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” He acquiesced. “You’ve had an interesting stay so far. Before we get into any of that, however, I have to give you your options.” He carded one hand through his thick, dark hair. “You can either choose to voluntarily enlist in CONTROL, or we’ll have to hold you captive as a prisoner.”
> 
>  
> 
> “That’s hardly a choice. You’re saying…You’re saying I can either choose to fight for you, or be a prisoner,” The young boy spat, a hurt edge to his green eyes.
> 
>  
> 
> or, Harry's starting to think going home won't be so easy, Liam's got more than just Harry annoyed with him, Zayn is having a hard time keeping both CONTROL and his emotions under lock and key, and The Rogue may have found himself a new plaything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW There is a lot of ableist language in this chapter, just warning y'all from now.

**II. AFTER RUIN**

 

"I want to know you moved and breathed in the same world with me."   
**— F. Scott Fitzgerald.**

 

* * *

 

Harry awoke with his mother’s name on his lips, memories flooding back as soon as he cracked his eyes open to the pallidly lit room. His entire body was still sore, throbbing with acute pain, and he groaned dully as his head lolled to the side, green eyes vacant as he stared at the door. He imagined his mother walking through right now, how she’s throw herself at him, hug him to her chest and say _It’ll be okay._

 

Nothing terrified him more than the nagging possibility he might never see her, nor hear her voice ever again. Pressing his lips together, he curled into a foetal position, ignoring how his body ached as he shifted on the bed. Everything was white in the room, pale and horrible, except the powder blue curtain that was drawn halfway around his bed. Once, Nick had broken his arm, how Anne had panicked, insisting he should spend the night at the hospital despite not needing to, and Harry’ crawled into the bed when Anne was asleep, laced their fingers together and said, “Imagine if hospitals had a colour scheme that didn’t make you sick?”

 

Nick had snorted, like he was an idiot, and kissed him. 

 

Now, alone, unsure where he was, lying down in complete silence, he missed Nick more than ever. It didn’t matter whether or not it was wrong or right to miss him. He was alone, he’d take any familiar face over these plain walls, blood-spattered curtains, and the soft beep of the heart monitor. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he quietly tried, again, to process everything he’d been told but no matter how many times he ran the details over to himself, it still seemed impossible. People did not just wake up hundreds of years into the future. It couldn’t be real, had to be a dream.

 

_Why couldn’t he wake up?_

 

If it were a dream, was he in an actual hospital back home? Motionless, comatose, surrounded by the people he loved, who were alive and well but waiting, just waiting for him to come back? He hoped so. Everything else, especially an _alien invasion_ seemed too far-fetched to be possible. Then again, what _was_ possible? Aliens? The way the ground had exploded beneath their feet at the party? None of it seemed like it could possibly happen, but it was happening and he couldn’t stop it. The sound of the curtain being drawn open in one swift motion made him recoil slightly, and he scrambled back, relaxing just slightly when it revealed the elderly nurse from before. His stomach flipped as he wondered if she’d drug him again.

 

The woman looked unimpressed by his actions, pursing her thin lips together. “You need to relax, Harry, or those bruises on your ribs will take longer than necessary to heal.” After voicing her disapproval, she approached him, pushing his damp curls off his sweaty forehead with one gloved hand. “My name’s Ha Ni,” She said, removing her hand. “If you could answer some questions for me, that would be helpful.”

 

Ha Ni was a short lady, with a petite frame and dainty, frail hands. Her hair was ink black, thick and pulled tightly behind her ears, her eyes ink black. Harry might have described her as East Asian, if they’d met someplace familiar, but after his talk with the brown-haired captain the day previous, he wasn’t sure there was such a thing as _East Asia_ anymore. Ha Ni smiled softly at his slow nod. “How old are you?” She asked.

 

“I’m, uh, I’m not sure? I was…I was seventeen before all this, but I don’t…What day is it?”

 

“It’s the 29th of January,” She informed him.

 

Leaping into the future didn’t seem to at _least_ make him hit eighteen. Typical. “Right,” He acknowledged tonelessly. “Still seventeen then, or…217…or whatever.”

 

Ha Ni seemed doubtful. “How would you describe _the past_?”

 

* * *

 

 

Standing by the window, the Chief Commander of CONTROL frowned at the training grounds where a few hundred men were perfecting their combat skills. The Chief Commander could only be described as timelessly handsome, with dark skin that stretched tautly around his sharp features. There was a dusting of facial hair on his jaw, and his hair was shaved on one side, the rest flopping thickly in dark, lazy spikes. His eyes looked bruised by lack of sleep, and the line of his mouth was set in a hard frown. He leant forward, resting his hands on the sill and did not even flinch when the door was thrown open with enough force to make it hit the wall, followed by brutish footsteps. 

 

“Liam,” He greeted, tired, without turning. “What did I say about the door?”

 

He heard the young captain plop down on one of the leather seats and turned, sighing. Liam shrugged, taking a bite of the apple he had in his hand and chewing loudly. “Sorry, Zayn.” Liam didn’t sound sorry at all.

 

Crossing over to the desk, Zayn took a seat in his chair, leaning back against the leather. Rubbing his hand over his face, he fixed Liam with a pointed look, stern and accusatory. “What did you fuck up?”

 

Liam squawked, sitting up straight and gesturing wildly with his hands. “Why do you always assume I fucked up something?!”

 

“You’re here,” Zayn pointed out. “So, you’re going to tell me what you fucked up and I’m going to cover for your ass. Like _always._ ” His handsome face looked gaunt, and Liam surveyed his superior with some clear worry etched into his features. “Did everything go alright in Area 42? Waliyha mentioned that you’d cleared it.”

 

Liam’s face scrunched up with disdain at the mention of Zayn’s younger sister, but nodded affirmatively. “Yeah, it went great. Ran into one of ‘em nasties,” He began, and Zayn leaned forward, worry flickering through his dark eyes. “It wasn’t mature, and pretty malnourished for an adolescent. I think they’re running out of corpses up there. Might start looking for more _populated_ areas, if we’re not careful.”

 

The grimace on Zayn’s face echoed exactly how Liam felt. No matter how careful they were, there was nothing they could really do about it if they decided to attack any of the districts. They didn’t have the skill nor the manpower. They were fighting a losing battle, and they both knew it. A tired sigh escaped Zayn’s lips as he looked at the younger man. “Great.”

 

“Oh,” Liam scratched his chin. “I picked up a civ. Wacky little thing.”

 

This caught Zayn’s interest, both his dark eyebrows shooting up. “A civilian? In Area 42? Strange.”

 

“Right? I was surprised, too, so I grilled him obviously, but get this, this kid thinks he’s from the past.”

 

It wasn’t the first time Zayn had heard the excuse. “Did you use the serum?” 

 

Liam frowned. “I did. Get this, though, the date he gave me. The last day he remembers? It was the day of the first invasion.”

 

This didn’t amuse Zayn in the slightest. “Where is he? He could be a part of the Adversary. If we’re not careful, we could have another _Rogue_ on our hands.” Liam scowled at Zayn’s words, knowing that another person like _The Rogue_ was the last thing they needed.

 

“Infirmary,” He replied. “Seems useless, honestly. Damn near pissed himself when he saw the nasty. I don’t think he’s a threat, I just think he’s, you know,” He cut off then whispered, “ _Bonkers_.” 

 

“Regardless,” Zayn shook his head. “We can’t take any chances. When you checked him out, what did you find? Was he branded?”

 

Liam shook his head, leaning back. “He had a lot of really weird drawings all over his body. Birds on his chest, but no brand I can recognise. Throat’s inflamed, a shallow cut in his scalp, bruised ribs and abdomen, couple of scrapes here and there.” Then, thoughtfully, he added, “No sign of a concussion though, according to Ha Ni, so I’m stumped.” 

 

Nodding in understanding, Zayn seemed to space out for a split second before fixing Liam with a quizzical look. “And did you ask Wali to look at him?”

 

The sour expression on Liam’s face said everything. “Why do _I_ have to ask her?”

 

Zayn sighed again, and he sounded so exhausted that Liam couldn’t help but feel bad. “Grow some balls, go, and tell her that she has to look over at him and come back to me with a full report. If she gives you trouble, tell her it’s an order.” With that, he turned away in his chair, looking back out the window. 

 

“Sure,” Liam groaned, standing up and taking another bite of his apple. The loud crunch of his chewing made irritation settle on the nape of Zayn’s neck. “You should get some sleep, Sir,” He drawled as he walked away. “ _Nobody_ wants to fuck a zombie.” 

 

“Get out of here before I wring your neck, Liam.”

 

Liam laughed as he left, deciding to take the long way around the building when seeking Waliyha out. 

 

* * *

 

 

When he reached her office, he paused hesitantly, staring at the translucent glassand the big, bold lettering. _WALIYHA MALIK, MD. HEAD OF MEDICINE._

 

Beyond that door lay his death, and Liam was in _no_ rush to face it. Ever since he’d joined control he and Zayn’s “baby sister” had been at each other’s throats. Despite being around the same age, Waliyha treated Liam like an irresponsible, incapable child, and, in turn, Liam made it no secret how uptight he thought she was. What truly aggravated him was that the girl was not this uptight with anyone else, all her venom reserved solely for him. _Lucky me,_ he thought. Hovering outside the door, he kept checking his watch, impatient with himself as he stood outside for five minutes simply summoning the strength to _knock_.

 

He knew that if Niall were here, he’d punch him in the shoulder and say, _It’s just a girl._ However, Niall, naive as ever, was an idiot and didn’t realise that even if girls were something to be trifled with, Waliyha Malik was not. Considered a child genius growing up, the young woman had been manning the entire medical department at CONTROL since she was fifteen. Two years later, when they’d met, she might as well have ran the entire _base_ with how much control she seemed to have on her older brother, who trusted her with his life. Liam wished someone a little less intimidating had chosen to hate him with every fibre of their being. 

 

Finally raising his hand to knock, he moved to tap his fist against the door when it swung open, revealing a svelte brunette. Stormy dark eyes, _angry_ and framed by thick black eyelashes, stared him down. Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a pony tail and she was dressed in her suit. Liam wondered if she’d been on her way somewhere or simply _sensed_ him hovering outside.

 

“Well, if this isn’t my lucky day,” Waliyha said icily, crossing her slim arms and tapping one heeled foot. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

Liam flushed under her scrutiny, and hated how small the girl made him feel, how slow and stupid he felt, because he wished he could be on par with her viciousness. Most of the time, he found himself embarrassed instead. Forcing a grin, he bit out the words, “I come in peace.”

 

Waliyha looked unconvinced but stepped away from the doorway, allowing him into her office. Unlike Zayn’s, hers was full of bright colours and pictures of family, something which always struck Liam as _odd_ considering Zayn was definitely the more sentimental of the two siblings. Sometimes he wondered if Waliyha had any feeling _at all_. 

 

The girl had walked over to her desk, and was organising files into her briefcase. “Make it quick, I have an appointment.” 

 

“I need you to check someone out.” 

 

The girl straightened up, motioned to her briefcase and then cocked her head to the side. “Can’t. Did your pretty little head not absorb the fact I _have_ an appointment? That makes you in my way, and me frankly not interested.”

 

Liam groaned, and hated that he always had to use this excuse. “It’s an order from Zayn.” 

 

Though some irritation continued to cloud her features, she nodded in understanding. “Of course it is. You wouldn’t have the balls to come here otherwise, would you? Not that you did…I could hear you pacing all the way from here. Fucking irritating.” She smiled sweetly, but her expression was smug at best. Shame coloured Liam’s cheeks pink and she smoothly walked past him, her heels clapping against the floor. “Show me where it is then.”

 

“ _He’s_ in the infirmary.” Liam followed her out. It had been a _long_ two days. 

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as they entered the ward, Harry sat up in his bed, glaring at Liam. He wasn’t ready for more lies, and certainly didn’t want to be drugged again. He frowned in confusion at the pretty brunette by his side. Liam had mentioned coming to see him again, but he didn’t say he would be bringing someone along. Before he could spend too long wondering about the girl, she stepped forward, introducing herself. “Hello,” Her voice was warm, but had a ringing authority to it, like she was the most qualified person in the room, and like she was fully aware of it. “My name is Waliyha, and I’m in charge of the medical department here at CONROL. I’m the only person here qualified to evaluate your mental health.”

 

Crossing his arms over his stomach defensively, Harry frowned. “Now I have to see a _therapist_?” He remarked bitterly. “I’m not crazy. You _all_ are.”

 

Waliyha didn’t appear ruffled by him trivialising her rank, and took a seat beside him, crossing one leg over the other elegantly. Smiling thinly, she drawled, “Free advice? We’re predisposed to doubt people who claim they’re not insane.”

 

This caused the young boy’s shoulders to slump and he leaned back against the headboard in defeat, satisfying Waliyha. “Don’t worry, kid, she’s the insane one,” Liam threw in, earning a dark glare from the lady. 

 

Waliyha neatly unclasped her briefcase, pulling out a notebook and a pen before settling the bag down beside her chair. “Liam told me your story on the way over here, and I must say I’m _fascinated._ ” She intoned, clicking her pen and opening her notebook to a blank sheet. 

 

Harry glowered at Liam, who raised his hands in confusion, before looking at Waliyha. “He thinks I’m confused, but I’m not. It’s the truth.” This earned him a warm, pretty smile from the girl.

 

“I never said you made it up,” She pointed out. “It is fascinating. You’re not the first person we’ve picked up with apparent memory loss, claiming to be from the past, _however_ , you are the first to claim to be from that far back, and on such a specific date. That information is not easily accessible.” Looking at Liam, she said, “Fetch me some tea, will you? Would you like any, Harry?”

 

Harry shook his head, while Liam’s mouth dropped open. “Do I look like a fucking waiter to you?”

 

Shooing him away with her hand, she repeated the request without looking away from Harry. “Let’s begin, shall we? Tell me about this ‘earthquake’.”

 

* * *

 

 

By the end of the examination, Harry felt physically and emotionally drained. Waliyha felt the most familiar to people he would deal with at home. Though she was cold and surgical with her questions, there was empathy written into her features, and she refrained from accusing him of insanity, unlike Liam who kept on mumbling how impossible it all was under his breath. Despite how nice and professional she was, he found himself wishing not to see her again, or at least for a very long time, a part of him threatened by the power she had to simply jot down that he was insane and strip him of any credibility, take away any chance he had of leaving and finding his family, his _mother_. 

 

The session dragged on for hours, and felt too gruelling to be a mere therapeutic session, felt more akin to an interrogation. After asking him about the earthquake in full detail, she moved on to asking him about his family, his friends, and his life in the UK. After they passed the two hour benchmark, even Waliyha, certified genius, found herself stumped and confused by just _how_ Harry seemed to have an entire world dreamed up in his mind. Some things, such as his knowledge of Section F’s terrain threw her off. Nobody had been there in so long. There remained the possibility that Harry was a trap laid out by the enemy; it was the only thing that made sense, yet the look of fear, the exhaustion in his young features told a different story. It seemed unfathomable that _this_ was the weapon they sent to them, especially when the Adversary already outmatched them so thoroughly that he only needed to send his right hand man to destroy the entirety of their base, probably. 

 

Harry, on the other hand, was at his breaking point, unable to believe that any of this was happening. “If this is the future, why does everything look so…”

 

“Shit?” Waliyha guessed. “We haven’t been able to advance to our full capabilities. Not only do we have our invaders to worry about, but we also have groups…groups from _here_ that are attacking us, trying to make sure we don’t get a leg up.”

 

“Other humans?” Harry said, confused by this information. “But…why?”

 

Liam interrupted Waliyha before she could elaborate. “That’s strictly need to know.”

 

Waliyha rolled her eyes. “Payne, don’t you think that if this boy were sent by the Adversary, he’d already know all _about_ the Adversary?” This only caused the captain to grunt, displeased. “After the third wave of invaders, a lot of people lost hope, and some of those people thought…that perhaps if we _cooperated_ with the invaders, tried to be more like them, they’d stop killing us. The Adversary are a group of well…terrorists. There’s no other way to put it, really. They’re led by a tyrannical megalomaniac who believes this, _all this,_ is just the order of the universe. _Evolution_. His name is Simon, and his operatives are highly dangerous.” 

 

“How convenient,” Harry said bitterly. “Now you have fantasy terrorists, too. And _I’m_ the crazy one.”

 

To his surprise, Liam slammed his hands down on the edge of his bed, face twisted into a snarl and skin flushed red. “You’re _really_ starting to piss me off. I don’t care if you think you’re from 2012 or whatever. Either way this? _This_ is reality. You can either choose to continue being deluded and carry on with your little fantasy or you _wake up_ and _wise up_. This is fucking ridiculous. You _saw_ one of them. It nearly fucking ripped your head off, _boy_ , what will it take for you to realise that whatever you think happened is _impossible_.” Ignoring the warning look Waliyha shot him, he continued, and Harry curled into himself, eyes stinging with saltwater. “Believe whatever you fucking want, but stop being a smart ass. You could at least treat us with a modicum of fucking _respect_.” 

 

“That’s _enough_ ,” Waliyha hissed. 

 

“Whatever,” Liam spat, and stormed off, leaving them alone. 

Gnashing his teeth together, Harry fisted his bony fingers into the sheets, knuckles white as he willed himself not to cry. He needed to get out of there, away from these people, and find someone who understood. Find his parents, or at least find out what happened, because he’d been talking to person after person ever since he got there and none of them seemed interested in helping, or at least _understanding_ how scary this all was for him. If this were an elaborate trick or conspiracy then he needed to get out of the infirmary in order to find out who was responsible and make them pay. 

 

Waliyha looked over at him pityingly before standing up, staring after where Liam had left with forlorn disappointment. 

 

“Okay,” Harry finally said, voice weak, catching Waliyha by surprise. “I’ll do whatever, I’ll answer whatever, and I’ll—I’ll cooperate, I just want to go home…” He sniffled slightly. “I want to see my mother, I want to tell her I’m sorry.”

 

He looked up at Waliyha with wet eyes. “Tell me what I need to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Harry had been led to a small grey, dorm room by two guards and Waliyha, he couldn’t help but feel slightly grateful he was no longer in the infirmary, at least, even as he looked doubtfully at the cramped room. There were two beds, on opposite sides of the room. One was unmade, the walls beside it littered with magazine postings of girls. Great. At least _porn_ survived the ‘invasion’. The only other pieces of furniture were two matching wardrobes and wooden chairs. They’d returned his clothes to him, but they were stained with blood and smelled rank, so he was unsure about changing into them, opting to remain in the plain white shirt and trousers he’d been clothed in. Walking over to the unused bed, he swallowed experimentally, testing if his throat was still sore. It was, but had healed considerably. 

 

Not for the first time, he found himself thinking about what happened before the earthquake. How his mother had caught him in Nick’s arms, red-handed, how _furious_ she had looked. How Nick had blamed everything on him. It wasn’t completely untrue. Harry _had_ made the first move, a few months back. They’d been fighting so much and it took catching Nick with another boy in _his_ bed to finally wake up the true source of his anger. He found himself wishing that he’d never kissed him, or, at least, Nick had never kissed back. Maybe the earthquake would have still happened, but at least he wouldn’t have to live with the possibility that his mother was _dead_ , and that she’d died hating him. 

 

He dropped his bearings onto the bed before collapsing onto it, sighing at the squeak of the mattress. 

 

“I see you’ve been released from your shackles,” Liam remarked coolly from the doorway. All traces of anger had left his face, and he was instead smiling toothily at the younger boy, but Harry remained apprehensive and unsure.

 

Nodding, he simply remarked, “Yup.”

 

Liam looked hesitant as he moved closer. “About before, I realise that wasn’t fair of me.” Harry snorted, pressing his face to his pillow. “I know this must be really confusing for you. So, I made up for it by getting you a room in the dorms until we figure out where your family is. Bonus! You get to be _my_ roommate.”

 

Honestly, Harry had never heard a worse idea. “Great,” He mumbled. “How come you don’t have a roommate? Did nobody want to live with you?”

 

Without missing a beat, “He died.” Harry felt sick. What had he gotten himself into?

 

Liam looked at his watch, noticing that it was nearly lunchtime. “You okay?” He asked Harry.

 

“Peachy.” He groaned. 

 

Liam didn’t look amused. “Remember what I said about respect?”

 

“What are you going to do, beat me up?” He grumbled. _Please don’t beat me up,_ He thought.

 

Liam rolled his eyes, gesturing for Harry to get up. “Come on. Lunch time.” 

 

Harry had an idea. “Can I see outside first?”

 

“So you can run away?” Liam joked around. “No can do, buddy. I can show you from one of the terraces though.”

 

Harry frowned bitterly, remembering that he was a prisoner and slowly climbed out of bed, his hair falling into his eyes. Eyes downcast, he nodded in defeat. It was better than nothing, and it should at least give him an idea of his surroundings. 

 

* * *

 

 

“What’s up, kid? You’re awful quiet,” Liam remarked, swallowing a large mouthful of food as Harry pushed his own around with a fork.

 

Looking up, feeling completely hopeless, Harry shrugged. “Got nothing to say.”

 

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he looked outside. Some form of _civilisation_ , but instead there was just miles and miles of plain lands. There was a light dusting of snow and the wind was cold and harsh. Otherwise, there was nothing that indicated civilisation, and certainly nothing that allowed him to hope he was still in England somehow. Whatever hope he had left was being siphoned out of him forcefully. Liam was back to eating noisily, while Harry wrinkled his nose at his place. It looked like mash and meat, but he couldn’t be too sure. He hadn’t seen any cattle anywhere. “Um,” He found himself saying in his slow drawl. “So, uh, how old are you?”

 

“Twenty-four this August.” Harry nodded. It was only typical he’d be the youngest person he knew here, too. 

 

“That lady from before…?”

 

Liam looked at him, confused for a minute before realising who he meant. “Waliyha? She’s 23. If you think _we’re_ old, wait until you meet Zayn. He’s _ancient_.”

 

Harry took an experimental bite of his food, surprised by how _normal_ it tasted. “Zayn?” He said around a mouthful. 

 

“Our general, or chief, or whatever. He basically controls CONTROL. He’s awesome. He’s like, 30 this year though, and he hates it.” 

 

“Oh.” Harry frowned. He wondered if this _Zayn_ had anything to do with why he was here. 

 

Liam licked his food off his fork. “You’re going to have to see him eventually, but he’s busy today so consider it a day off from being poked at.” This drew out the tiniest laugh from Harry and Liam all but dropped his fork. “So you _can_ laugh. Thank fuck for that.” 

 

Maybe Liam wasn’t as bad as he initially thought. After all, he _had_ saved him from that monster just days ago. Surely if he wanted Harry killed, he would have left him for dead? Hesitantly, he smiled shyly at the captain, earning a wide grin in return. Both boys were started out of their amicable moment by a the wail of a siren, the lights in the room flashing red. Harry stumbled out of his chair, nearly falling onto the ground. “What’s that?!” He demanded. 

 

Liam groaned, standing up and tossing his tray aside with a clang, pulling out a shotgun. “ _That_ is the reason I hate my job. Follow me and hurry the fuck up.”

 

Harry quickly followed after him, scrambling to keep up as they filtered out of the cafeteria with the other occupants of the room, following down a narrow hallway and through a large set of doors. The doors opened up to a large hall, its walls covered with monitors. On the monitors were different parts of the base, presumably, Harry could see himself peering up on one of the screens in the corner. “Where are we?” He asked, voice trembling.

 

“Security room,” Liam explained. “We have to locate where the assailants are, see what we’re dealing with.” Harry didn’t want to point out it was _stupid_ to all gather in one room and instead searched the screens nervously, eyes widening when he saw a fleeting shadow in one, so quick he almost missed it. 

 

“Liam,” He said, a mortified expression on his face. “There—This is going to sound crazy, but there was just a shadow? I think it looked like a man, but it was so quick I couldn’t tell.” 

 

Instead of looking at him like he was insane, Liam demanded to know which screen he saw it in. Harry pointed it out and then the man immediately barked out orders. “It’s The Rogue!” He snarled. “Seal off the exits in the East Wing, cut off the power in that section, and get to your battle stations!”

 

Everyone began running out of the room, including Liam who didn’t even look back at Harry. Bewildered, he struggled to catch up with him, his thighs burning from the exertion. “Wait! Where are we going?” He shouted, puzzled. 

 

Liam looked over at him. “Fuck! Forgot you were with me. Come here,” His fingers wrapped around Harry’s wrist and tugged him along, leading him into a store room of sorts. “Stay in here. Don’t move, don’t make a _sound_. I’ll be right back.” He instructed. “Lock the door.”

 

“ _Why_? What’s the Rogue?” Harry demanded, but his shouts fell on deaf ears as Liam left, shutting the door behind him. Shakily, he moved to lock the door before pacing around the room, heart hammering wildly in his chest. He tugged at his curls nervously with one hand, his other finding the cross around his neck and bringing it up to his lips for a kiss.

 

He thought of his mother. Thought of Johnny and how Johnny would know what to do. Thought of Gemma, and he missed them all so much, and he was so scared he thought he might die from terror. He plopped down to the ground, facing away from the door and pulled his knees up to his chest, sulking moodily as he heard gun shots nearby. 

 

He wanted his plain, old boring life in Holmes Chapel back so badly. He was way out of his depth here, in this world. “ _What do I do,_ ” He whispered brokenly.

 

Harry jumped as the door burst open, turning around jerkily. A boy stumbled in quickly, slammed the door shut and rested heavily against the door, catching his breath. 

 

The boy wasn’t very tall, probably a few inches shorter than himself, slender with a delicately curved back, and he had feathery brown hair, dusted with pale, platinum locks, that fell into his eyes in a sweeping fringe. Harry couldn’t see his face properly with his head bent down like that. The boy was clad in some sort of bodysuit, tight and form-fitting. It looked like it was littered in scales of some sort, the colour of gunmetal. The suit covered every inch of his skin save for his fingers, which were sun kissed with a light tan.

 

Harry scrambled to his feet. “Uh…” Taking a hesitant step forward, he tried to reach out to the smaller boy. “Are you okay?”

 

He noticed the boy’s body stiffen slightly, but he still hadn’t lifted his head. Harry wondered if he was badly hurt. “Um, are you…Are you with CONTROL? I’m, uh, kind of new, are you hurt?” 

 

At the sound of the organisation’s name, the boy lifted his head. Harry’s lips parted immediately. The boy’s face was a delicate array of sharp features and cheekbones that could cut diamonds, in fact, he’d even describe the boy as _pretty_. That is, if it weren’t for his eyes. While one was normal, a grey-blue colour, the iris of his other eye was stained with an ink black, almost completely taking over the blue. They were strange, glassy, and doll-like; _inhuman_.

 

Harry didn’t even need to wait for an answer as the boy’s mouth twitched into a lazy smirk, causing terror to flood his chest. “You’re…You’re not.” He said. It wasn’t a question, and he tried to back away. The boy laughed a little breathlessly, holding out his hand with a pretty smile.

 

Gingerly, he accepted the boy’s hand, and for a split second he felt warmth shoot up his fingertips. The sensation was over quickly as the boy swung him around effortlessly, as though Harry were a rag doll, and slammed him into the wall. He cried out in pain, hissing when he felt the boy press his hand against his back, pinning him against the wall. “Hi,” He said airily, as though they were having small talk, his voice a menacingly sweet purr against the shell of Harry’s ear. 

 

There were footsteps crowding the door. “Do me a favour, will you?” He cooed softly, and he seemed to be pushing himself up on his toes to speak to him. “Tell those mean men outside that everything in here is under control. I’m going to have to rip your head clean off your neck if you don’t, but I’d so prefer it if you just cooperated.” 

 

There was blood running down the side of Harry’s face, and his head was throbbing painfully. The boy looked at him patiently, waiting for an answer for a moment before moving Harry’s head back far enough to inspect the cut on the side of his head. “Hm,” He pushed him back against the wall, causing the taller boy to whimper in pain. “Are you okay, babe? I’m kind of in a hurry here.” The boy reaches up, lacing his fingers in Harry’s curls. “I truly am _sorry_ that I had to do that, but if you don’t help me out I’ll break your fucking neck.”

 

Ice-cold terror ran down his spine and he nodded pathetically. The boy pressed a faint kiss at the nape of his neck, as though rewarding him, and his lips moved against his skin when he spoke. “Atta boy.” Harry felt sick, revulsion settling like acid in his stomach, not only that this person was _touching_ him, but also because a pleased flush ran through his body as he did.

 

One of the boy’s hands snaked around his body, pressing against his abdomen lightly. “Now, tell them everything’s okay.”

 

“Everything’s okay!” He choked out, as loud as he could, his mouth full of blood. 

 

The boy’s nose was brushing against his neck as he gave him another rewarding ghost of a kiss. “You smell quite nice,” He remarked, as though he _wasn’t_ holding Harry’s battered self against a wall.Harry felt bile rise in his throat. 

 

“Harry!” He heard Liam shout through the door. “Harry, the door’s locked. Are you okay?” 

 

The boy prompted him to answer by pressing the hand he hand on his stomach harder. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, Harry could feel the light scratching of his nails. “You know what to do,” He said, voice melodious. 

 

“I’m fine!” He shouted back, voice edging on desperate.

 

“Are you sure?!” There was some banging on the door after that. 

 

“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake!” The boy snapped, pulling Harry away from the wall and easily pulling him along so he was in front of him. His hand was still on Harry’s stomach. “He _said_ he was fine, Limey. Now shut the _fuck_ up!” As soon as the boy had spoken the banging became more incessant, louder, and he could tell they were trying to break the door down. “He’s kind of cute, you know, where’d you pick him up?” The boy pulled out a knife from his belt lightly grazing the blunt edge against Harry’s cheek as he shook, tears streaming down his face. “His head would look _so chic_ on my wall.”

 

Harry flinched with a small, terrified squeak as the door burst open, Liam coming in followed by six men, surrounding them. The boy stepped back until he was against the far-side wall, Harry still held tightly to his chest. 

 

“Let him go, you piece of shit!” Liam snarled, aiming his rifle. The other six took their positions, but the boy was so much smaller than Harry that the taller boy was the perfect human shield. 

 

“Aw, but I _like_ this one,” He waved around the hand that was holding the knife, making Harry shake even harder. “Let me keep this one and I won’t attack the base for a little while. Wouldn’t that be nice? It’ll give you boys some tim to catch up.” 

 

“ _Shut up_ , you snake!” Liam roared, furious. One of the other soldiers shouted over their shoulder that they’d found _The Rogue._

 

This was The Rogue?

 

Liam stepped closer. “Let him go, or I swear to God I will put that gun right through that freaky, fucked up head of yours.” 

 

The Rogue didn’t even flinch, and giggled — _giggled_ — against Harry’s back. “And risk hurting the boy? Doesn’t sound like your style. Silly if you ask me. It’s a _war_ , Limey. People _die._ Sometimes _you_ have to kill them to take down a bigger threat.”

 

“Please,” Harry whispered. “Please let me go.” Liam narrowed his eyes, knowing that there was no way he could aim for him without risking Harry getting hurt, and lowered his gun with a snarl. 

 

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that. He felt himself moving so fast that his body could barely catch up with the movement. They were no longer up against the wall but at the side of the room, The Rogue’s foot connecting with the side of a soldier’s jaw, then they were elsewhere again, in the blink of an eye, the doorway, then Harry was being hit in the back of the head and everything went black.

 

As soon asHarry’s body hit the ground, Liam shot at where The Rogue had been moments before, but the bullets went through the door instead, no sign of the assailant anywhere.

 

“Fuck!” He shouted, throwing his gun to the side before rushing to Harry’s side. Groaning with defeat, he kneeled down next to the boy’s body and checked his pulse, sighing with relief when he felt the faint thrum of his heartbeat. “We’ve _got_ to stop meeting like this.” 

 

Liam looked up, wondering if The Rogue had already escaped. Frowning when he realised the boy probably had.

 

_I swear I’m going to kill him myself._

 

* * *

 

 

Before he woke up, he heard his mother’s voice calling his name softly, asking him to come back. When he opened his eyes and saw the familiar ceiling of the infirmary he nearly broke into sobs at the spot, but he felt all cried out. He heard shifting next to his bed and glanced over, only mildly surprised to see Liam there with a wide smile on his face. “You’re alive!”

 

“Yay,” Harry croaked, no real venom to his voice. Liam had tried to save him again. Liam was _good_. “Who… _What_ was that?”

 

Liam went to fetch a glass of water for Harry, offering it to him with a sigh puffing out of his full lips. “ _That_ was The Rogue. Second-most dangerous member of the Adversary.”

 

Harry snorted before going into a coughing fit, and he felt Liam pat his back. “How come he has such a weird name when the boss’s name is _Simon_ of all things?”

 

Liam didn’t seem to get the joke. “That’s not _really_ his name. We don’t know his name. He has it branded on his calves. _The Rogue_. So we call him that. Hell on legs seems too long.” 

 

“Oh.” They didn’t even know his _name_ and he nearly ripped Harry in half. 

 

The captain carried on, oblivious to the frown on Harry’s face. “We don’t really know much about him. Except that he’s not normal and that he’s Simon’s _favourite_.” 

 

“Not normal?” Harry echoed, dubious. As if anything here were _normal_.

 

Liam nodded. “The way he moves isn’t normal. He looks normal enough, he’s not even that _tall_ , but he’s faster, stronger, and has quicker reflexes than anyone here. Our theory is that…That’s he’s partly like _them_ , the aliens. You know, like a hybrid? Not only is he physically superior, his sensory capabilities seem pretty advanced and he doesn’t seem to have any emotional weaknesses. Waliyha is sure he has an Achilles heel, physically at least, but we haven’t been able to figure out what it is. He’s not exactly easy to get into our custody.”

 

There was a frown on his face as he considered all this information. “Is it possible? For those aliens…and a human…Don’t they just eat humans?”

 

The young captain looked just as lost as Harry felt, his broad shoulders lifting in a half shrug. “That’s the best guess we’ve got, unfortunately.” Liam lifted his legs, resting them on the edge of Harry’s bed. “And the only thing that makes the slightest sense. You’ve seen his eyes. They’re like theirs. They were clear blue when we met but they’re all…they’re going dark. Any wound we inflict on him gets healed anywhere between a minute and an hour, as opposed to the weeks and months it’d take us, and the way he moves…” He frowned. “You can see we’re a little out of our depth here.”

 

“Then what’s the point?” Harry asked, hating how hopeless he sounded. “What’s the point if there’s no way to win?” 

 

A grimace crossed over Liam’s features, and he swallowed thickly. “What other choice do we have?” With a sigh, he started picking at dirt on his trousers. “We just have to figure out why he was here. It’s the fourth time in a week that he’s dropped by for a little visit. Simon must be up to something, this is weird.”

 

“Everything’s weird,” Harry said grimly, and Liam could only nod in agreement. 

 

The curtain’s opened, and two suited men came in, followed by a shorter, slender man Harry didn’t recognise. Liam, on the other hand, immediately grinned. “Zayn! Nice to see you still look like shit, Sir.”

 

If he weren’t so strung out, Harry would have gawped at how informal Liam was being with someone that was clearly his superior, if the ‘Sir’ he’d tacked on was anything to go by. A light bulb seemed to spark up in the back of his mind. Zayn, he remembered at that moment, was the leader of CONTROL. He wasn't sure what to think of Liam's casual attitude towards the leader of the entire operation. Then again, Harry wasn't quite sure what to think of anything, period.

 

Zayn chose to ignore Liam, looking straight at Harry. “Hello, Harry,” He said calmly, voice cool and collected. There was an edge of arrogance in his eyes. “Chair.” Liam immediately got up and offered him his, moving to stand by the two men by the entrance. 

 

The chief took a seat, resting his chin on his folded hands. “My name is Zayn. I’m the Chief Commander here at CONTROL. Nice to see you’re still in one piece. Most of The Rogue’s…victims normally get back to us in a bodybag.” The morbid tone and content of his words made Harry shiver. 

 

“Hi,” He said dumbly. 

 

Zayn looked the leader type. Unlike the others, he was wearing a perfectly tailored suit that fitted perfectly to his trim figure, and he held himself together with some grace. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” He acquiesced. “You’ve had an interesting stay so far. Before we get into any of that, however, I have to give you your options.” He carded one hand through his thick, dark hair. “You can either choose to voluntarily enlist in CONTROL, or we’ll have to hold you captive as a prisoner.”

 

Harry gaped. “That’s hardly a choice. You’re saying…You’re _saying_ I can either choose to fight for you, or be a prisoner,” The young boy spat, a hurt edge to his green eyes. 

 

There was no remorse in Zayn’s features, nor was there any guilt in his voice. “We cannot afford to let you go just yet, and we’re not allowed to let civilians live here. However, if we have your name on file as either a _prisoner_ or a _soldier_ , it should satisfy Max and make my life a lot easier.” 

 

Everything seemed so unfair at that moment, Harry wondered what would happen if he just started screaming. He’d probably be committed. “Max?”

 

Liam spoke then, a scowl on his face. “Yeah, forgot to mention him. He’s the President. You know, of the entire planet. He’s an asshole. The only reason nobody’s killed him off yet is because they all love his wife, Perrie, so damn much.”

 

“Liam,” Zayn chastised, but didn’t disagree with his assessment. 

 

Harry thought it over glumly. He didn’t seem to have any choice, although the dark-haired man had assured him these were _options_. If he were in prison, he probably wouldn’t have the access he needed to scope the facility out and figure out what was happening and why it was happening to him. It would also slim his chances of finding his family or Johnny. That wasn’t a risk he could afford to take. The idea of becoming a soldier was daunting, to say the least. Harry couldn’t even kick a _football_ properly, how did they expect him to pick up a gun and fight? Especially if he was fighting more people like The Rogue. A displeased shudder shook him at the memory of the dainty boy who had so easily overpowered him. 

 

Whatever it took, he had to find his family. It was the only hope he had left. “Fine,” He agreed brokenly, voice sour. “I’ll do it.” 

 

“Good.” Zayn looked pleased.“Liam will take care of you, and I trust Liam with my life.” Liam beamed at the compliment. “You should, too. He’s saved your ass quite a few times by now.” 

 

Liam held out his hand. Harry frowned at it for a moment, remember what happened to him the last time he took someone’s hand, but accepted it, smiling slightly when Liam shook it. “I’ll take care of you,” He promised. “We have good people here. Wait until you meet Niall, and Leigh-Anne is _wicked_ with a gun.” 

 

“Welcome to CONTROL,” Zayn said, standing up again. 

 

“Thanks,” Harry sighed, lifting his hand to press it against the cross around his neck, promising to himself silently that whatever was happening, he would figure it out, and find a way to go home. 

 

At the back of his mind, the memory of feather-light kisses against his neck burnt through him and his stomach twisted, not at all amused by how his body shivered pleasantly at the memory. 

 

_He’s a murderer, and he would have killed you, too, if Liam hadn’t interrupted._

 

“Get some rest,” Zayn ordered, before leaving the room, followed by his security detail. “Liam, I need to speak with you for a moment.” Liam gave Harry a small wave before following the man out, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. 

 

Falling back against the mattress, the curly-haired boy fluttered his eyes close, the flash of memories of his mother, sister, and best friend tainted by images of the boy who’d nearly killed him today. 

 

Whatever was going on didn’t matter, Harry needed to get home. No matter what.

 

* * *

 

 

Zayn looked at the reports that had been sent his way tiredly, fatigue wearing down his facial features as he sat down at his desk. Setting the paper down, he grabbed a pen and began writing notes. Those notes soon turned into sketches and doodles running down the page, his concentration lost to exhaustion. The boy, Harry, seemed lost enough to suggest that regardless of whether or not he actually was from the past, he seemed to believe he was. This caused him to frown. He'd been so sure that he was simply something thrown their way by the Adversary, but The Rogue didn't seem to know who he was, and seemed to have no qualms harming him either. They would have to dig deeper to figure this all out. What he knew for sure was that there was no way he had simply woken up in the future. Nothing could explain that.

 

There was a knock at his door, and he could hear Jesy’s voice on the other side. “Sir, the First Lady is requesting to see you.” Zayn’s gaze dropped down to the page, to the familiar lines and curves of a woman’s face and quickly crumpled up the paper to a ball, tossing it to the bin at the corner of the room. He missed. 

 

“Let her in,” He said reluctantly. The door opened immediately, and he smelt her perfume before he even saw her come in. The President’s wife; beautiful, with golden tresses framing her pale face, and wide blue eyes that were captivating even when they were as dull and hesitant as hers were at that moment. 

 

Her voice was quiet when she spoke, almost afraid, and Zayn hated that more than anything. “Hello, Zayn, how are you?” She stepped closer to the desk, smoothening the skirt of her white dress. 

 

As if he would have _small talk_ with _her_ of all people when he used to know her so intimately that she wouldn’t even have to ask how he was to _know_. “What do you want?” His voice was sharp, cold, and he could see her flinch. Good.

 

Her features scrunched up into a wince, like Zayn had slapped her and she shifted her weight from on foot to the other, uncomfortable. “Can you please _try_ to be civil?” 

 

The man didn’t answer, instead pretending to be interested in one of the reports on his desk. He could hear the click of her heels against the tiles as she approached the desk, see her fingers fiddling togethernervously in his peripherals and he wanted nothing more than to fold them out and hold them, calm her down. That was no longer his place. 

 

Seemingly giving up, she spoke again, “I need…I would like the file you have on Section B.” Hesitantly, she added, “Please.”

 

“No.” His voice held a finality to it. If she had been anyone else, if _he_ had been anyone else, she could have him reprimanded for that. It was an abuse of the guilt she felt toward him. 

 

He heard her sigh, and knew he was being unnecessarily difficult, but told himself it was her fault. _She_ made her choice, and he couldn’t be blamed for how he reacted to it. Which was pretty badly by all standards. “I really need it, Zayn, please,” Her voice was so quiet, so frail, and he often wondered how she managed to do such a good job of being the First Lady when she was this weak.

 

She was only this weak around him, nothing like the woman she’d been before, and he almost hated himself for it. Almost. “Perrie, I’d like you to leave.” 

 

“It’s really important that I have the file,” She pressed. 

 

He looked up at her, and she flinched back at the hard glare she was met with, eyes glassing over. “Not my problem.” He waved her away dismissively. “Next time you come asking me for favours, come as yourself and not whatever you’ve become. Otherwise, it’ll always be a _no_.” 

 

That made her look visibly hurt. “Zayn, it’s not a favour. It’s an _order_ ,” She said, harshly, but regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth when Zayn looked at her, his expression so angry he almost looked feral. 

 

“Get out!” He snarled. “Get the _fuck_ out.” Turning around he grabbed the file she wanted so damn badly and all but threw it at her, sick of seeing her, sick of how her perfume clung to everything she touched, sick of everything. 

 

The file fell at her feet, and she bent down, quickly retrieving it before getting back onto her feet. “Zayn, I’m so—”

 

“Out!” He repeated stubbornly. Nodding, she turned away and headed for the door, shoulders hunched in small. She paused in the doorway, but Zayn turned away from her, staring out the window, angry and full of hatred for everything. 

 

“I miss you,” She whispered brokenly. This time, it was Zayn who flinched. “I miss the way we were.” Perrie found herself wishing that she hadn’t come personally at all. 

 

“Go,” He all but begged, and she did without contest, the door slamming shut behind her. 

 

He groaned, burying his face in his hands.

 

The office still smelled like _her_. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think. Or if not, thank you for reading. Mwah!
> 
> Everyone's kind of an asshole right now, but only for the beginning.
> 
> By the way, please send me your thoughts on tumblr if you want, it's http://mattehealy.tumblr.com


	3. Dead Planet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t know you liked me that way,” The Rogue remarked teasingly, seemingly having forgotten his question. It would be endearing how the small boy pretended to be too weak to struggle against the restraints of Harry’s large hands if he weren’t a potential hybrid that could very well rip Harry apart. 
> 
> “I don’t,” Harry said flatly. “The only think I’d like is if you were gone, like, now.” The Rogue’s fingers didn’t twitch away, instead the bed creaked as he seemed to sit up, Harry could feel his breath against his lips. 
> 
> Their noses brushed together, and whatever air died in his throat, his breath hitching just slightly. “So, you _don’t_ want to kiss me?” The Rogue whispered, voice thick and silky sweet. 
> 
> or; Harry makes some bad decisions, Liam finally gets the rest he wanted all along but may just regret what he wished for, Niall finally rolled into action, Zayn's demons are coming out to play, and the Rogue is a lot friendlier in the dark.

**III. DEAD PLANET**

 

"Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting."   
**— Haruki Murakami**

 

* * *

 

 

_The air was crisp, only the slightest chill suspended in the moonlit streets, and from his position on the edge of the roof, Harry thought about how much nicer everything looked at night. It was nearing three in the morning, and he could already hear birds chattering inharmoniously with the surrounding quiet. Every now and then he could hear a car drive by, but it was rare. There wasn’t much to do in plain, old Holmes Chapel. The young boy had spent most of his life trying to escape the tranquil embrace of the small, sleepy town. His only source of sanity was here, perched on the rooftop beside him with a joint set between his gloved fingers. “Hey, Johnny.” The boy’s deep voice was a hushed whisper, almost as though he was worried he’d awaken something if he was any louder._

 

_Barely sparing him a glance, the other boy breathed out a smooth stream of smoke. “Yeah?”_

 

_Twisting his fingers together over his knees, he chewed at his chapped lips, wondering if this really was such a good idea. His heart was pounding in his chest with bruising force already and his throat felt so tight he wondered if he’d even be able to get the words out. After a pregnant pause, the silence manifesting between them like the proverbial elephant, Johnny looked at him properly, taking in the shaking boy beside him. “Whatever it is,” He began slowly, “I already love your stupid, white ass, and I’ll still love it after you tell me.”_

 

 

_Tears stung his eyes and he nodded almost gratefully before choking out, “I’m - I’m gay. I - I’m pretty sure, and I - I.” He stopped there, terrified, his face feeling drained of all blood; he could hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears._

 

 _“Okay,” was all Johnny said before he stubbed out the joint against the side of the roof. Harry wondered if he was going to take off, and he kept his head down stubbornly, feeling stupid. What did_ okay _even mean?_

 

_Oh._

 

_There were suddenly arms wrapping around him, and they hadn’t hugged since the time Harry broke his leg when he was nine and wouldn’t stop crying. His best friend, practically his brother, hugged him close to his chest and he couldn’t help the pathetic sob that clawed out of his throat as he hugged him back. “Thank you,” He breathed shakily. “Thank you so much.”_

 

_They stayed that way for a minute before Johnny pulled back, ruffling Harry’s hair. Looking outward at the low skyline of Holmes Chapel, his lips twitched into a bright smile, all teeth. “You know, I fooled around with a boy once,” Johnny said seriously._

 

_“Really?” Harry said, surprised. He’d never known about this. “Are you-”_

 

_“Nah,” Johnny said quickly, reaching up to push his hair down a bit. “Not gay. Not anything in particular. I think it’s better to just take what life throws at you, know what I mean?”_

 

_“You are so wise,” Harry said seriously, green eyes wide in awe, and smiled dopily when Johnny shot him a grin._

 

_Then the ground beneath them began to tremble, shaking slowly at first before breaking apart in large chunks. A large crack began digging its way through the streets, getting closer. Both boys startled, swinging their legs over and standing up on the roof, unsure of where to run because where could they run when the earth was falling apart. Harry felt Johnny’s fingers close around his wrist before he was being tugged along to the door. There was no point, nowhere to run, but Johnny had always been faster on his feet. The building shook, the rooftop beginning to sway underneath their feet. Harry lost his grip on Johnny’s hand, falling back as the building groaned and crumbled. Sharp pain shot up his back at the impact. His friend was right by the door, he could try running, and he had always been faster on his feet, but he watched in horror at Harry, then looked at the roof, at the gap of broken cement that was stretching out between them. Harry knew what he was going to do immediately, and a scream tore from his throat. “Run!” Harry begged._

 

 _“Like_ hell _I’m going to run,” Johnny said before breaking into a sprint and jumping across. For his part, the gangly brunette scrambled closer to the edge waiting for Johnny to roll to his side, so he could at least pull him into his arms and die alongside the one person who’d ever taken care of him and accepted him no matter what._

 

_But Johnny never made it to the other side._

 

_The world was falling apart around them but Harry’s focus was zeroed in on the sight of Johnny clinging to the edge of the crumbling roof._

 

_“No, no, no, NO,” He screamed and made a grab for Johnny’s hands, wrapping his long, wiry fingers around his wrists and he tried his hardest to pull him up, but then, like air, he vanishes into the darkness and Harry was suddenly left all alone on a dying planet._

 

 

His eyes felt glued together when he shook out of his nightmare, sealed tightly shut by saltwater and fear. The sight of Johnny being swallowed whole by darkness still fastened itself to the backs of his eyelids as he fluttered them open to the darkness of the room he shared with Liam. It was still nighttime and the room was pitch black and eerily quiet, nothing but the other man’s soft snores to keep him company. The aftershocks of the dream raced up his spine like spikes of dread and anxiety and felt like a weight on his chest, not too heavy but there, completely still.

 

“You were crying,” A smooth voice observed and Harry felt shocked back to reality, realising the weight on his chest was not the weight of his emotions but an actual person. He’d be damned if it took him a day to forget the silky voice of his near-murderer. Immediately his mouth opened to scream or call for Liam but he felt a soft hand pressing down over his lips before he could do either of those things. “Hey, now,” The boy above him had the audacity to sound _hurt_. “Why would you do that?” The palm held over his mouth spread out slightly, dainty fingers brushing against his lips as they stretched apart just enough to allow him to speak. The drag of feather-light skin against his face, _especially_ in the dark was hard to ignore, his stomach twisting into knots. “I came here especially to see if you were okay and you treat me like _this_. Mean.” Harry could practically feel the boy pout in the darkness of the room.

 

Furrowing his brows, Harry’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “You tried to kill me.” It was slightly shameful how put out he sounded rather than, ideally, fiercely angry. 

 

The Rogue’s body shook with a giggle, and the taller boy could feel the slide of the boy’s thighs against his body as he spread them, straddling his chest properly. Blaming the fact his senses were heightened due to his inability to see, he tried not to blame himself for the heat that began to pool in the pit of his stomach. “If I tried to kill you,” He whispered like he was telling Harry a secret; there was a slight rustle as he moved closer, and Harry could feel his next words against the shell of his ear. “You would be dead.” A nervous shiver ran throughout his entire body at those words. That was right. The Rogue, no matter how _good_ his compact body felt atop his hormone-riddled body, was a _murderer_. Harry didn’t even realise his face was scrunched up before he felt a cold finger run against the space between his eyebrows, smoothening the skin there. 

 

“What are you doing?” He asked, hating how breathless he sounded, hating how he couldn’t see a damn thing, didn’t know where the Rogue’s face was, where his hands were moving to. 

 

At this point, the Rogue seemed to trust him enough to remove his hand, uncovering Harry’s plush lips. Breathing quickening slightly, his green eyes fluttered close at the smooth sensation of fingertips tracing the shape of his face. “I was in the neighbourhood,” The Rogue said mischievously, a small laugh curling around his words. “Heard you crying, thought I’d pay you a visit.” 

 

Were the walls that thin? Harry grimaced, cheeks heating up in slight shame. Fear was still clinging onto his insides, apprehensive of the Rogue as he waited for the other shoe to drop. “Who’s Johnny? Boyfriend?” When Harry didn’t answer, the Rogue pressed on, either not noticing the boy was remaining silent for a reason or not caring. “Were you lovers? Did he leave you?” Then, with a breathless laugh, “Did he _die_?”

 

Anger rushed through him at the question, a flash of uncharacteristic aggression flooding through him. Driven purely by adrenaline and irritation he flipped them over, his hand finding one of the boy’s slim wrists and wondering if he’d manage to subdue the Rogue long enough to turn him in they’d let him go home, or at least take the possibility seriously.The Rogue was much smaller than him, and now that he was hovering over him, his body covering his completely, Harry was starting to rethink his rash movement; he could hear his tiny breaths as spry fingers hooked into the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t know you liked me that way,” The Rogue remarked teasingly, seemingly having forgotten his question. It would be endearing how the small boy pretended to be too weak to struggle against the restraints of Harry’s large hands if he weren’t a potential _hybrid_ that could very well rip Harry apart. 

 

“I don’t,” Harry said flatly. The hand on his shirt tugged up slightly, exposing a sliver of his abdomen to the cool air of the room before clumsily sliding upward, stopping right over his throbbing heartbeat. Swallowing thickly, he tightened his hold on the boy’s other wrist, hoping it would at least _sting_ enough for him to _stop_. “The only think I’d like is if you were gone, like, now.” The Rogue’s fingers didn’t twitch away, instead the bed creaked as he seemed to sit up, Harry could feel his breath against his lips. 

 

Their noses brushed together, and whatever air died in his throat, his breath hitching just slightly. “So, you don’t want to kiss me?” The Rogue whispered, voice thick and silky sweet. The younger boy thought about his wide hips and thick thighs, the curve of the boy’s arse and the dip in his back, and how for the moments _before_ the boy attacked him he would have definitely said yes. While the pretty boy’s eyes were unnerving at best, they were a little easier to deal with than the blood on his heads, or the fact that he was _half_ whatever potentially killed his mother. No amount of hormonal curiosity about the softness of the boy’s skin or how the curve of his mouth would feel curved against him could be more important than that. “Not even a little?” The mellifluousness of his voice was in stark contrast to the viciousness of the character that had been described to him, so silvery and honeyed that he could practically feel the words caressing his heated skin.

 

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he inched back just slightly flushing when the Rogue simply leaned even closer, swore he could practically _feel_ the boy smirk. “No. I don’t.” 

 

It was with sick realisation that he realised this was the game he often played with Nick. A matter of what was right and what would feel good, as temporary as the latter would be. No matter how many times he knew, deep inside of himself, that what they were doing was wrong on so many levels, or that he deserved more than the way Nick treated him, he still found himself responding as soon as the older man took what he came for, regardless of whether or not Harry protested. The young boy wondered if the Rogue would do that, too, wondered how much he’d end up liking it if he did. 

 

Shocking him completely, the Rogue reclined backwards, his head falling back gently against his pillow with a faint thud, and curled his fingers against his chest, like they were trying to touch Harry’s heartbeat. “Liar,” The Rogue whispered, mirth colouring his voice as he allowed his hand to fall away from Harry’s chest. It was strange, considering how _evil_ this boy was, that he wouldn’t just take what he wanted. Then again, Harry thought with some annoyance, this was probably him pulling a joke. Pretending again that he couldn’t just simply pull his wrist away from Harry’s hold with ease, he tugged downward. “Since you won’t kiss me, will you release your hold on me so I can go do dastardly things?” The way he said it would be sweet if Harry didn’t believe every single word. Licking over his dry lips, he loosened his hold slightly but didn’t let go of his wrist. 

 

“Are you going to hurt anyone while you’re here?” Harry asked weakly. The smaller boy’s hand slipped halfway out of his hold, but his fingers curled around his thumb. 

 

He could hear the rustle of the pillow sheet as the Rogue shifted his head. “Do you honestly care? About any of these people?”

 

“I do,” Harry said without hesitation. He cared about every single person he came across despite not knowing them. A consequence of having your whole word swallowed up around you, he supposed. 

 

“Weird.” It was almost childlike, said with a note of wonder that made him feel like it genuinely _was_ strange to him. The idea of the Rogue lacking humanity due to being alien was becoming more reasonable. “Anyway, like I said,” Harry felt fingers around his thumb slip away as the Rogue shifted up the bed, sitting up as much as he could with Harry’s body caging him in. “So many evil things to do, such little time. Move.” 

 

 

Ignoring him, Harry cast a look over at where Liam’s sleeping form lay, unable to make it out in the darkness. As he heard the boy’s soft snores, his heart throbbed guiltily with the knowledge that he had their second most wanted criminal in his _bed_ and lacked the strength to detain him, even more ashamed with the fact he knew Liam would have tried to capture him, even if it meant death, and Harry - Harry failed to see how this war he didn’t understand was worth risking his life for. Ducking his head in self-loathing, he moved away, allowing for the boy to slip out the bed. 

 

 

“Thanks, babe.” There was a slight draft in the room, like a small, sharp breeze had just rolled past, and a small click which sounded like a lock sliding into place. When he reached out in the darkness, patting his hands down on his bed, the Rogue was no longer there. 

 

 

Tears slid down his face, and his lips burned like someone had struck a match to them. For the life of him he couldn’t understand why.

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time morning rolled around, Liam was buzzing with energy. It had been the longest, uninterrupted rest he’d had in months, especially with Simon’s spike in activity the past few weeks. Lifting himself from the mattress, he groaned happily as he rubbed the back of his sore neck, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. Cracking one eye open, he saw that Harry was curled in on himself on the bed, but his green eyes, rimmed red, were wide open and watching him dully. “Morning, sunshine,” Liam said, drawing out his words cheerily, blinking his eyes wide open and grinning over at the boy.

 

With a pitiful whine, Harry simply rolled over to his other side. Rude. One thick eyebrow shot up as he assessed the other boy, wondering what was wrong with him _now_. Nothing bad had happened in the past few hours. Then again, before Liam had managed to doze off properly, he could hear the boy rustle in his sheets in fitful sleep. Checking his watch, he bit down on his lower lip. While his sympathy for the kid was growing by the day, the constant coming and going and running around he’d been put through the last few days made his appetite grow impertinently. 

 

“Come on kid, up and at ‘em,” Liam said, standing up and crossing to his cupboard. “The night was peaceful for _once_ so we should probably run and have breakfast before something bad happens, and something bad _always_ happens.” 

 

Not moving an inch, Harry called his name out softly, voice muffled by his sheets. The captain to turn around curiously, visibly aggravated by the fact Harry was refusing to cooperate. Were nightmares ever so bad that a good, hot breakfast couldn’t fix? “Has uh, has the Rogue ever tried to - You know.” 

 

“Maim me?” Liam supplied, unimpressed. “Yup. You’re not special, kid. You are, however, lucky to be alive.” 

 

“No, that wasn’t - Never mind. How come he’s never followed through?” Harry got up then, his long legs trying to twist out of his sheets. 

 

Quirking an eyebrow at the boy, Liam shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s brought me an inch away from death over the years way more times than I’d like to admit, but he never like, finishes the job. I feel like he’s playing with his food.” Harry seemed to pale at his words. 

 

“Oh,” Harry was quiet, eyes downcast. “Has he ever tried to kiss you?”

 

Spluttering, Liam threw him a baffled look before his face twisted into a cross between a scowl and a gag. “Of course fucking _not_. I mean, he’s flirted a little, but he always talks like he’s trying to crawl into your ear or something, it’s _gross_. Imagine that snake _kissing_ anyone.” Harry blushed, turning his face away from Liam.

 

Before Liam could read into it, they were interrupted by the wail of the siren. The captain groaned and fixed Harry with a withering look. “We _could_ have had breakfast, but you decided to waste our leisure time talking about the main reason we can’t _have_ leisure time. Let’s go.” Reaching into his cupboard for a shirt, he pulled it on and quickly dressed, strapping his gear on before slipping out into the hallway. The man had to wait impatiently before the tall, lanky boy came tumbling about, his clothes rumpled from sleep. They should probably get the kid new clothes soon, something sturdier and preferably bulletproof. Harry’s head was bent down, eyes still watery and miserable, but they had no time for a heart-to-heart. Instead, Liam slapped him on the shoulder before breaking into movement, making his way toward their destination. Now that Harry knew where they were supposed to go, the quick run to the security room took less time than it did the previous day. When they filtered into the room, it was still half empty, no doubt due to the amount of soldiers that had been woken up to the siren and needed to find their bearings. 

 

“Alright, Liam?” A voice chirped to his left, and he looked over, a big smile blooming onto his face. It was with some luck that Liam managed to get along with practically everyone at CONTROL; whenever Zayn was in a good enough mood he’d claim it was due to Liam’s boyish charm, to which the captain would always bat his eyelashes exaggeratedly and thank him. While Waliyha hated him with every cell in her body, everyone else seemed to like him well enough. One of _his_ favourite people, however, was the man who came up to him.

 

The man who’d greeted him was short, wiry and almost cherubic, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed as though he hadn’t been in a war-torn world his entire life. The hair on his head was blond and unruly, with dark hair growing out at the roots, and his thin mouth was stretched into an easy smile. “Niall!” He greeted warmly before looking around the room again. “Do you know what this is about? Are we under attack?”

 

The blond shook his head. “Nah, we don’t seem t’be. You know Zayn’d already be in here if we were.” Liam nodded in agreement, and Harry shrunk into himself, scared that today would be a repeat of the day before or that someone had gotten hurt because he couldn’t stand up to the Rogue. Niall seemed to take notice of him, blue eyes lighting up in interest. “Is that the fresh meat?” Flushing under inspection, Harry looked to Liam for help.

 

Liam shot him a bemused look before looking at Niall. “Yeah, that’s him. Name’s Harry. Harry, this is Niall, best pilot CONTROL has ever had. And by best, I mean longest surviving.” The young boy wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that clearly being a pilot was risky business, but that Niall looked near damn proud of himself for outliving his fallen comrades. 

 

“Nice to meet you,” He mumbled, abashed and forced a weak smile when Niall shoved his shoulder cheerfully. 

 

The three of them moved closer to the front as more people started packing in, Harry sticking close Liam’s side. He nearly walked straight into Liam’s back as the boy abruptly froze in his steps. Ignoring Harry’s disgruntled noise, Liam nudged Niall. “Hey, there’s Perrie.” 

 

That name was familiar from somewhere, but Harry couldn’t piece together the information. He’d been told so much in such a condensed amount of time and he was still trying to catch up with everything, to understand. When he was sixteen, his mother was reluctant to send him on a school trip to Paris, worried that her little boy would feel lost in a country that spoke a different language. Harry wondered how she would have felt if she knew he’d wake up in a word he didn’t understand at all, bereft of any knowledge that might help him survive. 

 

Both Niall and Liam were looking at a woman stood on the stage at the end of the room. Though she wasn’t very tall, she was beautiful, with soft blonde curls pinned back in an up do which looked deceptively simple, delicate braids twisted together at the back of her head leaving a few loose curls at the front to frame her face like a halo. She was wearing a pure white dress that came down to her knees and seemed to float around her whenever she moved, and when she spotted them looking at her, her blue eyes turned warm and her mouth twitched wider into a serene smile. By her side were a group of suited men, similar in dress as the men who were with Zayn before, tall and built and eyeing everyone in the room suspiciously as they surrounded her. “Who’s Perrie?” Harry asked, finally, after drawing the conclusion that the lady definitely wasn’t a part of CONTROL. She seemed too soft, too pure; although Dr. Malik had been elegantly dressed and was also strikingly beautiful, there was a hardness to her eyes that came from seeing horrors. Perrie, on the other hand, seemed untouched by her surroundings in a way that almost seemed too much for the plain, grey walls of CONTROL that had probably seen more death and bloodshed than Harry liked to imagine. 

 

Niall shot him an odd look, whispering, “Just how _fresh_ is this meat? Everyone knows Perrie.” 

 

“Long story,” Liam said quickly before turning to Harry. “Perrie’s the First Lady, that is, uh, the President’s wife. She’s so much more than that, though. She works closely with the Human Development Organisation and the Centre for Regeneration of Humankind,” He explained, pausing at the confused look on his face. “The Human Development Organisation works on the districts and housing, agriculture, making sure everyone’s got a warm bed and food to eat, and is like, as safe can be, really. We do a lot of work with them, but Perrie’s really stepped up the game since she became First Lady. The Chairwoman of the HDO and her are like this,” Liam twisted two fingers together to indicate their closeness. “As for the CRH, they work with young women and men on repopulating the planet. They volunteer to just…make babies. Lots of them.” 

 

Niall took that as his cue to wave his arms, shouting, “Pezza!” Liam followed suit, giving her a large wave. The blonde looked over at them and seemed to give her guards a nod before approaching them. One of the men accompanying her jumped off the edge of the stage in order to give her a hand stepping down, despite her being perfectly capable of the action. When she reached them, she gave them a small finger wave. 

 

“Good morning, Liam, Niall.” She greeted kindly. “How have you been?” 

 

Niall spoke first, “Super!” Liam simply nodded along before saying, “Have you taken your _much needed and deserved_ break yet, Pez?” Each word was said purposefully, and if it were written out Harry would imagine it typed out in all caps with periods after every word. Dimly, he reminded himself to ask whether or not they had texting or anything similar to that in the “future”. 

 

Perrie fixed him with a look. “I don’t need you to coddle me, too, Liam. A break simply isn’t an option right now. There’s too much work to do, and the new district we’re opening up is my priority.” It was strange, but the soft ambition in her voice reminded Harry of Gemma; he felt his heart sink to the floor. “And who’s this?” She turned her attention on Harry as she spoke and he blushed, suddenly unable to speak for himself. 

 

“Harry,” Liam answered for him. “He’s…new. Really new.” 

 

“Brand new,” Niall piped in, and Perrie shot them both odd looks while Harry grimaced. Cocking his head to one side, the blond boy reached up to rub the back of his neck. “What brings you to our neck of the woods, Per?”

 

The blonde girl’s features seemed to dim, her blue eyes flickering to her folded hands sadly. “I was here last night, and then remained nearby to talk to Laverne about our plans with the new district. I heard about the siren going off and I…I came to check on - On all of you.” 

 

A sympathetic frown marred Liam’s features, whereas Niall merely smirked. “Yeah, yeah, you’re here to check on _Zayn,_ ” He said, earning a shove from Liam. 

 

Perrie giggled, stepped back and looked over her shoulder at her guards who were still standing nearby. “On all of you,” She repeated when she looked back at them, an odd look on her face. “I should get back. Take care, Liam, Niall, and Harry. It was nice to meet you.”

 

“Um,” Harry blushed. “You, too.” Watching her go, Harry waited until she was back on the stage and out of earshot before remarking, “She seems really nice.” 

 

“She is,” Liam said, admiration clear in his voice as he hunched closer to the other, too. The room was beginning to get quite full. “Too nice for her nasty ass husband, that’s for sure. That’s between you and me though. I feel like if I keep talking shit, I’ll get my ass thrown into prison for _treason_.”

 

That seemed a bit harsh. Making fun of politicians and other people in power was like a national sport in the UK. The world was ending and this ‘President’ seemed more concerned about not being talked about badly than doing anything productive. Then again, another part of him began to wonder if he could possibly meet the President. If anyone would know how he came to be there, it’d be him, right? 

 

At that point, Zayn finally stepped into the room. Unlike before, he was donned head-to-toe in combat gear, clad in all-black unlike Liam and Niall’s navy blue uniforms. The commander adjusted his gloves as he walked up onto the stage, his eyes focused on his wrist as he completed his task. When finished, the man looked up, turning slowly to face the large group of people. However, he froze midway when he caught sight of Perrie, whose eyes suddenly seemed a little glassy. Harry couldn’t hear him from where he was, but he saw Niall and Zayn tense beside him. He thought he heard Niall whisper, “Please don’t be an asshole for once.” But he couldn’t be sure. 

 

Perrie hesitantly approached Zayn on the stage, her eyes wide and imploring as she whispered something to him. Though she hadn’t touched him, the commander jerked away like he’d been burnt and turned away from her, ignoring her completely. “Attention!” Zayn said, and it was the loudest Harry had ever heard his voice. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why you were called in here so early in the morning.” There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd. “I’m sorry for making you wait, but if I weren’t in such a _good mood_ I’d have the lot of you reprimanded.” Liam looked utterly confused and a little pale. Harry had a bad feeling about this, too. “Did everyone sleep well?” The bad feeling in the pit of his stomach grew stronger. “Because if you did, it’s because _none_ of you noticed Simon’s operatives traipsing through the base freely!” He barked. “Any _one_ of you could have been killed.” Harry shivered, but he felt somewhat reassured by his words. Did that mean no one had been killed? “You might be thinking right now that you got lucky, but before you start counting your blessings,” Zayn gestured to his guards who were carrying a strange bag Harry hadn’t noticed before. They set it down and unzipped it. The commander reached into the bag.

 

He pulled out a hand. A human hand. Bile rose to the back of Harry’s throat and there were some surprised gasps amongst the troops. From the corner of his eye, he saw Perrie cup her hands over her mouth in horror and slump back, one of her guards quickly hurrying to steady her. Still holding the hand high up, Zayn did a little spin. “Do you all see this? Everyone take a nice, good look,” He said, anger dripping like acid into his voice as he turned, but he seemed to freeze when he saw the Perrie’s state. Turning away abruptly he dropped the hand back into the bag. Quietly, he continued, “Ha Ni’s trying to figure out whose body it is. They didn’t leave the head. If you could all - If you could all sign in with my assistant, that’ll help speed up the process.”

 

The curly-haired boy felt sick, and kept his head down, eyes trained on the floor. _You did this_ , he thought. _You could have stopped him, you could have done something, but you didn’t and now someone else is dead. Because of you._

 

The commander continued speaking, but his words sounded like they were far away as Harry’s head spun and he tried not to throw up on the tiles. _“_ In the mean time, we’ve received a tip about one of the laboratories in Area 27. Those of you who are assigned to this mission will receive notice from me in the next few hours. In the meantime, go about your business. Eat,” Zayn waved his hand dismissively before rubbing it over his face. “If you can stomach it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Twisting her long, raven hair into a high pony-tail, Waliyha Malik scanned over assessments in the comfort of her office. The medical wing was the northernmost wing in the base and saw the least action in terms of battle, considering the lack of valuable goods stored there. Her older brother often asked her specifically not to report when the siren went off, but she couldn’t help how anxious she felt whenever it did. Every single time it wailed and reminded them of their depraved state of being, she wasn’t sure if it was one of her friends who died this time around, if anyone she loved was being zipped up in a body bag. Placing her hands on the table, she sighed, wishing she could at least check on the people she cared about instead of doing paperwork. 

 

It wasn’t exactly abnormal of her brother to be so fretful regarding her. In fact, it would be abnormal if he didn’t, considering how he panicked when she stubbed her toe or seemed even the slightest bit upset. It always led to coddling, doting and consistent questions such as “Are you alright?” and “Do you need a hug, Wali?”. The answers to which were always ‘Of course’ and ‘No’ respectively. At her age, in this world, she couldn’t afford to rely on her brother’s embrace like she had when they were younger. The man’s excessive worrying wasn’t entirely irritating though, most days she didn’t mind it. Waliyha was constantly reminded of how precious family was, how fortunate you were if you still hard yours. The siblings had lost the rest of their family, and her brother had vowed to take care of her ever since. Day in, day out, she saw client after client with trauma from losing theirs and considered herself lucky that she was too young to remember her parents, or how they died. Zayn would certainly never share that story, even though the ghosts of their past seemed to cling to his footsteps. She was definitely lucky that whatever horrible things had happened, and would continue to happen would be diluted to her, Zayn acting as a warm, good filter in a cruel world. Many people saw him as harsh, cold, and she supposed when she tried to see it from their angle, she could, but she knew how he was with people he loved. After all, that wretched woman who’d torn his heart in two still floated through life untouched by the shadows cast over their planet, and it was all thanks to her brother. 

 

The door opened, causing her eyes to snap upward to the doorway. A wry smile began to form as she saw Zayn edge into the room, as though summoned by her thinking of him, but it disappeared at the sight of the blonde he had in tow, teeth gritting. In the future, she hoped her summoning skills would be limited to people she could stand to breathe the same air as. Noting her brother’s hand on the girl’s elbow, the only appropriate place to touch someone you weren’t supposed to, she relaxed slightly, but still looked wary as Perrie was led into the room. “Hey, Wali, got a minute?” Zayn said, sounding tired. 

 

“Depends,” Waliyha said coolly, leaning back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other. “What do you need?” 

 

Perrie looked reasonably uncomfortable, and Waliyha smirked. She’d better. There was a time when she looked up to the blonde like a sister, but that seemed like too many moons ago to stamp out the resentment that clawed through her whenever she saw the blonde now. Zayn looked between them, a grimace clear on his face before he shot Waliyha a pleading look. “The First Lady saw something a little…traumatic, and it was my fault.” Perrie seemed to rush to correct him, but he shook his head at her. “I’d like you to talk to her and make sure she’s okay before she heads out.” 

 

“No,” Waliyha said simply before turning back to her papers, taking some sick pleasure in denying Perrie. 

 

“I don’t think you understood me clearly, “ Zayn sounded hostile, more so than usual. “That was an order.” 

 

Waliyha looked up, glaring at her brother and she would have been grateful for Perrie’s words if she didn’t hate her so damn much. “That’s fine, Zayn, it’s not necessary,” Perrie interjected softly. Looking at her, Zayn bared his teeth slightly; Waliyha’s spirits dimmed even more when she saw that the softness that pooled in her brother’s eyes when he looked at the girl hadn’t faded over time like she’d hoped. Their unhappy history was known to everyone at CONTROL, and while most people found themselves torn between how much they liked and admired Perrie as a person and their unwavering loyalty to Zayn, Waliyha found it a lot easier to pick sides. It wasn’t even her bias towards him as her older brother, but to her it was this simple: she was the one who made the mistake, so she was to blame. Everyone else, including Zayn, seemed to find that concept more complex than necessary.

 

“When will you start taking care of yourself?” He demanded imploringly, and Perrie looked away bashfully, her cheeks painted a light pink. Both the Malik siblings noticed, and while Waliyha grimaced, Zayn’s eyes only seemed to soften more.

 

Sickened by the display, and too aware of the men outside who would see all of this and report back to the President, Waliyha interrupted them both. “It’s fine, I’ll do it.” Zayn seemed to snap out of his reverie then, looking over at Waliyha with gratitude etched all over his face. There was shame written there, too. “I need you to leave though, Zayn, you’ll distract me.” The brunette was more than capable of handling Perrie professionally regardless of whether Zayn stayed or not, but she was worried he’d only draw more attention to himself if he remained around Perrie. The risk of this getting back to the President, and the consequences of that were far too great for Waliyha to take any chances. 

 

Though she didn’t like Perrie one bit, and loathed the idea of coddling her through whatever had spooked her, Waliyha would do anything for her brother. Even if it meant making nice with the woman who hurt him. 

 

* * *

 

 

“And _that_ is the tech room,” Liam said, pointing toward a sealed door before clapping his hands together. The curls on Harry’s head bounced as he looked up, but his eyes held no interest, making Liam feel like he’d wasted his time on him. “That concludes the tour of the base.” The captain had decided to use the time before they got their notices to show Harry around the base. After all, now that the boy would be staying here indefinitely, it was about time he started learning how to manoeuvre the place without leaning on him like a crutch. “Next lesson: handling a gun!” While it was said in a joking manner, both boys new that the younger would need to train his combat skills as soon as possible if he was to survive. There was no possibility of Zayn sending Harry out into battle since that was guaranteed to raise the bodycount by at least one, so Liam figured he had a few weeks to bring the boy up to scratch before he was thrown into the field. It wasn’t much time, they probably needed as much as they could get, but it was something. Harry was toying with one of the curls on his forehead as he nodded, but then his green eyes seemed to flicker, fixing on something behind Liam. 

 

“Where does that lead?” He asked, and Liam turned around, taking in the large doors that Harry had pointed to. It took him a minute to remember what it was, not managing to recall a time he’d ever been through there, before it struck him.

 

Scoffing, he stretched his arms out. “That’s the library. Boring.” Liam looked over at Harry and saw the amazed expression on his face, the way he looked over at the library with curiosity and interest. Frowning, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Seriously? Are you serious? Out of everything I’ve shown you? The _library_.”

 

Blushing, Harry nodded. A part of him wanted to know why the younger male was so interested in going into a room full of dusty books, considering he didn’t even flinch when Liam showed him the games room, let alone express any interest in playing any of the games they’d preserved with him. “Fine, let’s go.” The boy lit up, smiling brighter than he had since coming here and the captain began to think that it might be worthwhile if it drew a smile on the miserable youth’s face. 

 

Still flushed with excitement, the boy pushed his curls out of his face and said, grateful, “Thank you.” The captain sighed and began leading the way. While they walked over to the gigantic metal doors, Harry kept glancing over at him as though searching for the right words to say. “Will there be books about um, the invasion?”

 

Suddenly it made a lot more sense and Liam grimaced, realising the boy was still trying to piece things together. He wondered if he still genuinely believed he was from the past. “Yeah,” He began slowly, noting the relieved look on the boy’s face. “But you need higher clearance to get to those.” His expression dimmed immediately, and Liam paused by the keypad by the door. “Do you still want to go in?”

 

With a miserable shrug, Harry nodded, “I guess.” The poor boy looked so doused out that the captain regretted having to be the bearer of bad news. The tall, gangly boy might have be big and had some muscle definition, but he was nothing more than a child. Liam remembered when he arrived at CONTROL, only fourteen and determined to join despite being younger than the requirement. He’d been so happy when Zayn accepted him. The youngest member of CONTROL alongside Waliyha. This boy, on the other hand, looked like he’d been dealt the worst set of cards fate could have picked out for him. It worried the older man. If there was anything he’d learnt, once you lost the will to fight, once you lacked a reason to, you might as well zip yourself up in a body bag yourself.

 

A shrill noise interrupted his thinking, the PA booming to life as Commander Zayn’s assistant’s voice cleared her throat through the speaker.

 

“ _Attention all soldiers. The team for the mission to Area 27 has been selected_ ,” The PA began drawling, the staticky voice filling the hallways of the base. “ _Will the following please report to Commander Zayn’s office immediately?”_ Liam froze, looking up at the nearest speaker and hoping against hope he was selected. It was rare for Zayn to send him out on fieldwork as the older male was too protective of him, but he’d joined to fight and the young captain wanted to do as much of that as possible. A part of him believed that if he did enough good it would wipe his slate clean once and for all. Harry, for his part, stood idly by, fiddling his fingers nervously.

 

“ _Niall Horan, Leigh-Anne Pinnock, Harper Jury, Mac Lambert,”_ It began listing names, going through at least seven after that. It must be a big mission if Zayn was risking the lives of that many. “ _Farah Baker, Sean White, Lee Hunt and…_ ” His heart thumping wildly, Liam shut his eyes with a whispered plea. If he was sending Niall despite his sprained ankle, surely he’d send Liam.The last second seemed to drag on for an hour before the PA spoke again. 

 

“ _Harry Styles._ ”

 

Both buys startled in shock, looking at each other in horror. They both fish mouthed for a moment. _This had to be a mistake_ , Liam thought a little desperately. Both concerned for Harry and angry, so angry that Zayn would send an untrained child into battle before sending him. “Did he just say - ?” Harry began, eyes wide and terrified, colour draining out of his face.

 

“Harry Styles?” They both said at once, dread flooding through them in waves as they looked up at the speaker.

 

“ _That is all. Please report to the Commander’s office immediately.”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your continued readership. I hope you all liked this chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story so far.
> 
> By the way, please send me your thoughts on tumblr if you want, it's http://mattehealy.tumblr.com


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